Footsteps
by Gotyu
Summary: The choices made after Lucille Tracy's death were life changing. Swept up in a wave of inspiration and hope there is one Tracy left behind. Alan whump.
1. The Cause

**This fic looks at the relationship between Alan and his father, Jeff. It focuses on Alan a lot more than my last fic and plays heavily on the consequences of choices made after Lucille Tracy's death.**

As requested, this fic is a chapter by chapter update. Reviews make my day and keep me writing, so if you like it let me know!

**I do not own the Thunderbirds or any of the characters associated with them, this applies to all of my Thunderbird fics and to all of the following chapters.**

Thank you x

* * *

Alan made his up into bed, his short legs making it a mountainous climb which made Lucille Tracy laugh out loud, a light sound which resonated in the air and made him pause in his ascent. She moved in from the doorway in which she'd been standing to help her youngest son, easily lighting him up into the double bed, pulling back the covers and getting him comfortable.

He was growing quickly but still stumbled in his elder brother's footsteps, he needed his mom and she felt that her life had always needed him. He was unplanned, but he was her little angel and there wasn't a moment which passed where she wasn't glad to have him in her life.

The holiday cabin was warm and welcoming, clad in a dark colored pine which made the stark white of the snow on the slopes outside the windows seem unappealing in the darkness. Thick carpets and the steady crackle of the fire in the main living area seemed to slow down the pace of life.

She knew that as soon as the sun came up she'd have a house full of ridiculously excited boys wanting to go outside and explore, they'd be arguing over who was skiing and who wanted to snowboard. Jefferson would pretend to be stressed by it all, yet he'd have been the most excited of them all. His sons were his pride and joy and they had all awaited this holiday with a heightened level of glee. Days had been counted down from and phones had been switched off, a family holiday meant that they'd all be together and no work commitments were allowed to stop that.

Five sons. If someone had told her that she'd one day marry a billionaire and have five sons… well, she would never have believed them. She loved each and every one of her boys so much that she often thought her heart would burst with pride, she wanted the world to know just how wonderful they were and was beyond sure that one day they would. Of course they could drive her crazy at times yet the passion they had for life forgave all wrongs.

Alan was her baby, Lucille hadn't planned on having another child but he was a happy mistake who brought nothing but joy. His bright and forever wide blue eyes shone out like sapphires and his mop of unruly blonde hair that was the color of a hay meadow, as pleasant as the summers and as warm as his heart.

As she tucked him under his thick duvet she breathed in the scent of his kid's shampoo and that wonderful smell of small children that seemed a mix of baby lotion and life.

"Mom, Gordy said that I'd get lost in the snow," Those startling blue eyes stared up at her, a mix of worry and apprehension as he chewed his bottom lip, "and you'd lose me because I'm a polar bear."

Lucille repressed another chuckle at Alan's worry, his elder brothers often teased him, calling him baby bear of all things. The polar bear comment had come after a particularly hot summer in Kansas where she had made sure he was constantly smothered in sun cream to protect his skin. A combination of bright blonde hair and sun cream smothered skin had come to the attention of brothers out to poke fun and tease. For such a young child he'd quickly allowed himself to become concerned at the prospect of turning into a bear.

"Oh, Allie baby. He's just trying to scare you. How about you stay with me whilst they go out onto the slopes? We can look after each other." She stroked his hair back from where it had begun to fall into his eyes, reminding her that they really did need to get it cut.

"Don't you want to ski, mommy?"

She didn't want Alan out with his brother's just yet, she knew he was at a good age to learn (as Jeff kept reminding her), but she wanted to hang on to the time she had with him whilst he still needed her as much as she felt she needed him. She easily ignored Jeff's comments of how she babied the kid and how he needed to grow up.

Alan had all the time in the world to grow up and face the harsh realities of the world around him, but it wouldn't be today or for tomorrow, and she'd have liked to hope it wouldn't be the day after that either.

"I'd much rather sit by the warm fire, drink hot chocolate with sprinkles, eat melted smores and play games with you. How does that sound baby?"

He frowned up at her sleepily, considering her words and watching her soft features for any sign of deception. "Just me and you mommy?" He was sleepy, his eyes were drooping closed as he relaxed into the soft bedding.

"Just me and you Allie. How does that sound?"

"Just me and you." He smiled in contentment as his eyes drifted closed, her hand stroking his warm skin. "Love you Mom."

"Love you more, baby."

* * *

He remembered her screaming his name and her warm arms surrounding him and pulling him close, the thunder in his ears only getting louder and louder and soon her warning cries were drowned out by screams and the engulfing snow which tore through the chalet as though it were made of nothing but matchsticks.

He could remember a stark series of images. The fire's soft flames once calm suddenly turning to dust and smoke as debit crushed down, sparking up in defiance but no match against the onslaught which hit. He was being carried back by safe arms, her perfume reassuring and strong as he clung on from fear and the need to be with her no matter what. He didn't fully understand, but he was carried back and back in flashes of the building structure crashing around them and color until there was no where else to go. Trapped by the front door which refused to open, wide eyes filled with matched fear as what they ran from easily caught up and converged upon them with a frightening inescapable speed.

She'd pulled him back, mere milliseconds must have past but it seemed much longer, everything drawn out painfully slow in every sense of the word as he was pulled between his mother and the door, her eyes finding his own and she created a bridge above him, blocking his view and shielding the worst of the sound. Filled with fear, filled with love and pain.

"I love you Alan."

And then it engulfed them.

I love you more, Mommy.

* * *

They were all at ages at which the death of their mother had effected them all in an earth shattering way, she had been the centre of their world with life as they'd known revolving around her. Being so young the idea of death had barely glanced their horizons.

Jeff Tracy had been a mess, for over a month he hadn't spoken and had taken to long drives which took him miles away from home and familiarity. Their grandmother had stepped in to take command of the five Tracy children, she had tried her best to explain and be open to their grief.

Alan was five, very young but also in desperate need of his mother who wasn't returning and wouldn't answer his cries. Scott, on the other end of the brother's age scale, was fifteen and had taken it upon himself to play substitute father until their own returned to the role.

By the time their father had eventually returned he had gotten himself together in the sense that he had directed all his grief into different sources and motivations, he'd gathered the five children before him in his large oak paneled office, the dim lighting sending shadows over their already shadowed faces as they shuffled in the silence before he spoke.

"Your mother's gone and we can't change that, but we can unite and make her proud of what we are to become."

It must have been rehearsed, his eyes didn't shine with the life or love they once had and it would be years before that spark would return, but Jeff Tracy was a strong man and he would not abandon his family. Rehearsed or not he had to push through and survive, for Lucille's sake at the very least.

"Our family is the most important thing in the world, it always has been but now we realize that more than ever before. So we will stand together and create something which shares each of our names, we will represent all the things your mother stood for; Strength, kindness, loyalty, and although we don't see it so much now, happiness."

He'd looked at each of the boys in turn, his glance lingering on Scott who hung onto each word as though he were being thrown a lifeline. Something we could work with, a way out of the grief.

"This has been an idea of ours for a long time now but we never put it into motion, and we never discussed doing it on the scale I have since planned. But I have spoken to a close friend and brilliant engineer, Hiram Hackenbacker, and he's going to be coming to the house to help start the cogs of this new project. When we move he will hopefully agree to follow us on our new adventure."

"Move?" Virgil stood in the middle of the line of boys, looking sheepishly up at his father from wide hazelnut eyes half hidden by his unruly and long unbrushed hair.

"I don't want to move." Gordon had muttered, clinging on to Scott's arm and staring pleadingly up at his eldest brother. "I don't want to move Scotty."

Their father had waved a hand as though dismissing their worries, he'd smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're going to be moving to an island, you can't get much more exciting that that now can you? We'll all be together for our new start, it's what we need… Together we'll be happy again, like your mother would want. We have to live for her now, and each one of you will make her proud."

"Grammy to?" Alan had asked, coming towards the desk, his eyes just able to see their father, arms scrabbling to grab his hand.

Jeff had looked down at Alan for a long moment before replying, withdrawing his hand so Alan stopped reaching for him. The kid was always so clingy.

"No, not Grandma, she'll stay here."

"I stay too then." Alan had declared, turning around as though to leave the room, ignoring the brief glare Jeff sent his way. John had caught the small blonde before he got to the door and pulled him up into restrictive arms.

"No Allie, we have to go together."

Their father had nodded in thanks at the young but already promising astronomer.

"It won't be for a little while, I need to get the island ready first. But you will love it, you all will. Your mother would have to, so we have to do it for her. Ok?"

A series of 'Yes sirs' had followed, Alan's complaints combined with a few of Gordon's mixed emotions but Jeff had been pleased to lay the cards on the table so to speak, he was doing this for his family. Together they would be the strongest they could possibly be after such a tragedy, each a pillar of strength to get one another through the darkness that had been brought upon them.

The new house was ok, Scott could see promise in the large empty rooms and open layout of the main living areas, but it wasn't home as they knew it. There were no memories there, the wall with notches matched with names which worked as a timeline for each of his brother's growth spurts - it remained in the old house with their grandma, as did many of the memories of their mother.

The island was larger than he'd expected and much, much warmer. It would certainly take some getting used to but in a sad kind of way he looked forward to the challenge and distraction, it had been eight months since their mother's death but the pain was still raw.

Looking around his new room Scott sighed and turned to the pile of boxes waiting to be unpacked, that would take a while, at least his bed was already there.

He could hear the distant screams and squeals of excitement from a ten year old Gordon, it had taken him a whole fifteen minutes from the plane landing on the island to him finding the large pool. Part boy, part fish, the kid was ridiculous when it came to water.

Though it was so good to hear the sound of laughter in the air again, it seemed so seldom since their mother had left their lives. Gordon certainly had the knack of bringing them together and getting those smiles to show.

Ok, big boxes first - desk, computer, printer, shelves, books, the smaller items could wait. He pulled of the brown tape from one of the larger boxes and shifted through ascertaining what it contained, noting for future reference that labeling them would have been a smart idea when he'd packed them.

"You need a hand?"

John leaned in the doorway, eleven months younger than Scott but quickly catching him in height. His blonde hair the opposite to Scott's ebony, he carried more similarities to their late mother than the eldest Tracy son.

"Sure, you can help me rig the desk and computer. You not unpacking your stuff yet?"

John smiled, it was his usual smile which was sincere yet sad and reflecting, it had a calming notion to it. "You can help when we're done here, it's easier if there's two of us."

He was thankful for the help, the desk went up quickly and Scott didn't have too much time to dwell onto the memories white items from the old house held. Soon they'd be heading off to boarding school on the mainland; Scott, John and Virgil together, Gordon would follow in a few years. Life would soon get hectic, memories could take the sidelines.

Standing and dusting his jeans off John inspected their work on the desk, it was a simple project but good to have completed. Only four more brothers to do… and computers, it could take a while.

"Where's Virg?" He asked, wondering if three pairs of hands would be even better.

"I think he's with dad." Scott muttered, head in a box, pulling out wires and the keyboard. "Either that or with Gordy in the pool."

He carefully pulled the computer monitor out and looked up at John questionably when Alan poked his head around the door frame.

"I am lost." He declared, clutching colored crayons and paper in his small hands whilst his eyes seemed to brim with tears. It was a look he seemed to have worn for some long months, the words didn't seem required.

Scott rolled his eyes, gently placing the monitor onto the desk and turning to his baby brother with a sigh. "Where are you heading sprout?"

"I thought you were with Gordon?" John questioned, one blonde eyebrow raised.

Alan stepped into the room and laid the small fistful of papers on Scott's bed, looking over his small form the two older brothers could see brightly colored lines scribbled over them. "I was makings the map." He stated, pointing out his papers with a sigh which matched Scott's own, he waved his arms out in frustration. "I did finds everyone, buts I did not finds mommy."

Irritated, Scott turned away. Part of him wondering whether Alan kept mentioning her on purpose, whether he liked the attention or actually still believed she was going to come back. He'd been there with her for Christ sake! He knew she was gone.

John stood for a silent moment, eyeing the back of Alan's head as the young boy stared down in concentration at his 'maps'. Closing his eyes John knelt besides the bed so he was just about at Alan's level, turning him so they were looking at one another.

"Allie, mom isn't here anymore. You know that."

Alan stared back into matching blue eyes, for a young child he was able to hold the most serious of expressions. His gaze bore into John's before he shrugged and glanced to Scott.

"Daddy did say that she went a longs way away, so I thought she may be lost getting back." He held the maps up for Scott to see, pointing out brightly colored squares which he considered to represent the rooms of the new house.

Smiling weakly, Scott replied. "Allie, mom's with the angels now. She's not going to come back." Not after what happened to her, there was no coming back from that.

Giving Scott the same long and serious stare which he'd given John, he gave another sigh or irritation. "Mommy always said that angels were women, and daddy did say quite a lot that girls have none of the direction sense. So maybes they are lost to."

Alan's first word had been "dad", closely followed by "mom" at an age much younger than his other brothers. Yet since Lucille's death his language had taken a step backwards, he sounded much younger. He abruptly turned and left the room, leaving the two older brothers staring after him sadly whilst his crayons remained scattered on the bed.

The months were long.


	2. The Logic

**I'm still setting up the storyline so fast updates for the first few chapters, I could have put the first and second together but I think they work better in segments. But do not fear, the word count gets lengthier from chapter three onwards. Chapter three is already a favourite (holding hostage until reviews are made).  
Thank you to all who reviewed the first chapter. I love reading them, especially the ones bigging up my ego ;)  
And thanks to those already following, that's some serious faith!**

* * *

Overjoyed was an understatement, Hiram Hackenbacker was over the moon to have not just his own lab, workshop, and pretty much the run of Tracy Island for experiments and research, but that it was a safe haven for himself and his son, Fermat.

The last few years had been tough, ever since the disappearance of Fermat's mother he'd been a single father and the sole means of income to their small family. Being a scientist didn't mean he was rich, far from it, his inventions and ideas were often laughed at and his failures always bore the spotlight more than the successes. He'd been offered jobs in research facilities and laboratories but the restrictions and paperwork held him back, he needed space, support, and funding.

Hiram had the pleasure and luck of meeting Jeff Tracy at a science function a few years back, since then they had become close friends and acquaintances.

When Jeff had lost Lucille things had quickly changed, a job offer had already been on the cards but once the Tracy hierarch had purchased the island the offer became more of a life laid out on a silver platter. And when Jeff had mentioned his plans? Hiram could not have asked for more.

He was happy. To put it mildly.

Working on the new project before him Hiram reflected briefly on the past and the changes they had gone through to get them where they were. Lucille Tracy's death brought so much pain, but the work that had been done in her memory would bring relief to thousands. International Rescue had become an essential emergency service to the world and not one it would soon forget.

Tinkering with a dynamo whilst his glasses slipped down his nose he pushed them back up with a long finger only for them to make their way straight back down. He sniffed and turned to the contraption. A large silver mat standing above a foot of wiring and casing, once he screwed the dynamo in place the machine worked.

Well, worked in the sense that the science was there, it functioned, just not as required.

A teenage Scott strolled through the double doors and into the silo where Brains wanted to test his new invention, careful to watch the minefield of debris and partially constructed experiments around him. He perched on a low work bench next to Brains, perching his elbows as he leant back whilst taking in the mess which had become of the once empty space.

"Dad wanted to know how things were going, and whether you'd be up for dinner."

He couldn't really tell what Brains was doing, he himself had a knack for engineering yet the complications of Brain's work baffled him. He'd been to yard sales which looked more organized.

"W-w-want to see w-wha… it working?" Brains stammered, once more pushing his glasses up his long nose as he stood back, admiring the dynamo for a moment before retrieving an apple from the table. No doubt leftover from the lunch that had been sent down for him earlier that day.

"Sure. Do I need to stand back?" Scott asked, wary of losing not just his eyebrows.

Brains ignored him, or perhaps didn't hear him. The latter seemed more likely as he was so absorbed in balancing the apple on top of the silver mat and keying numbers into the contraption on the side of the machine that his concentration was zoned into the one task. It beeped shrilly and the whole thing seemed to vibrate with energy.

Brains quickly strode across the silo to an identical looking piece of apparatus Scott hadn't noticed, it was a good fifteen meters between the two and other scraps of metal and wired designs stood between.

Standing, the eldest Tracy son brushed down his pants and stood back anyway, putting the table before him as a barrier to any unforeseen explosions. Asking Brains if he was going to make it for dinner had quickly become known as a hazardous task.

With a blur of bright white light the apple disappeared.

The teenager frowned at where the fruit had been, trying to figure out just what Brains had invented and/or achieved. He looked over at the man who was grinning madly, intent on the identical silver mat fifteen meters away from where the fruit had vanished.

A few seconds later there was another bright flash of light followed by steam or perhaps it was smoke, it smelt a lot like apple. Stepping away from the cover of the table Scott found himself wanting a closer look.

On the opposite silver mat Brains was staring at the apple which had been transported fifteen meters across the room, only it had digressed from a solid to a liquid and looked very un-apple like.

"T-t-teleportation!" Brains beamed, rubbing his palms together as he took a closer look at the result. "Am-amaz- brilliant!"

"Erm, sure. Brilliant." In a way it was, he supposed, brilliant. "You're not going to send anything living through that are you? Only Dad said dinner was ready and I'd rather take the stairs… not that I'm not impressed of course." He added the latter quickly after receiving a hurt expression from the scientist. "It really is brilliant."

* * *

Gordon was heading off to join his brother's at boarding school and excited was an understatement to what he felt, it had seemed an eternity of watching his older brothers grow up before him and do all the things he wanted to do. They were in the sport teams, they were winning medals, racking up achievements and living the life he'd always wanted. There were girls on the mainland, Olympic sized swimming pools, fast food restaurants, and people who weren't related!

He'd always looked up to his brothers of course, admired and longed to follow in the footsteps he was quickly growing into. Being stuck behind with the baby of the family was no fun and he wouldn't be sorry to see the back of it, he was five years Alan's senior and needed to feel that those years made a difference. Boarding school was going to be something else.

Grinning like a devil he dragged his last remaining bag from his room and into the large open plan living area where his brother's and father stood waiting, they'd packed hours ago but Gordon wasn't sure what to bring so had packed pretty much everything "just in case".

"You have to share your dorm room you know," John smirked, eyeing the last of the cases in a way which suggested he wouldn't be helping to carry it anytime soon. "That means you have to fit _two_people into one room, two people and all of your stuff."

Scott leant back against one of the large couches, aviator sunglasses obscuring his eyes but a cocky smile on his lips displayed his feelings. "Considering how empty you've left your room here, Dad will be able to rent it out."

He grinned ever wider, sure they could joke but he was with them now, he wouldn't be hearing boarding school stories from a distance and having to watch everyone else's life starting up but his own. Scott was graduating at the end of the year and would be heading to college, but for the time being it would be good to spend a bit more time with the guy before he disappeared again.

"Not sure how good the commute would be for any potential rentals," Virgil chuckled, walking across and attempting to pick up the bag which by the look which glanced his face had quite possible lengthened his arm, "Dad, you could get a snooker table in there!"

Laughing lightly Jeff tried to steer the boys from the room and out towards Tracy One, their private jet which really should have been in the air an hour ago, though once you decided to have kids you pretty much sacrificed organization. "I rather hoped that you'd visit during holidays but by the sounds of things it'll just be myself and Brains for Thanksgiving and Christmas, though I'm sure we can get through a whole turkey by ourselves…"

"You wish."

"As if!"

"Never!"

Alan lay across the large couch behind the small group of men, arms over the back cushion as he watched them and smiled.

"Can I come to the mainland and visit?" He asked, ever hopeful.

"I'm not sure Al, I'm going to join the swim team as soon as I can so that might take up a lot of my free time. You can email though! Send me photos of all the boring things I'm missing."

"To have any hope of receiving emails you're going to have to actually get to school." Jeff checked his watch for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past hour, he gave each of Tracy One's soon to be passengers a hard look which directed their attention back to leaving the island and ending their summer vacations once and for all.

"See you later sprout! Don't get into too much trouble, and if you do - make sure it's described in detail in a lengthy email!"

"Gordon!"

"Sorry dad."

"Bye kid brother, see you in the summer. You'll be taller than me soon so I'll have to keep tabs on you."

"Bye John, don't miss me too much." Alan rolled of the sofa and came to bid farewell to them all, a hug per brother and a rather disdainful hair ruffle from Scott.

"No trouble Alan, dad doesn't need it."

"Thanks Scott, you always know the right words to say."

"And no sarcasm." Virgil chimed in, ruffling Alan's recently smoothed back down hair and causing an eye roll from the young blonde. "You need to give us reason to miss you."

With that they turned and finally made their way to the plane, the bright warm sun on the island something Gordon would quickly come to miss. The pool would be abnormally quiet until summer break.

"I call co-pilot!"

"You can't call co-pilot." Scott muttered as they made their way over to the hanger leaving the house behind them.

"I call that I can call things!" Gordon interjected with a smug grin, easily missing the swipe Scott took at the back of his head.

* * *

Alan had been glad that Brains had brought his son Fermat to live on the island, it was so quiet without his brothers and entertainment was hard to come by on your own. His father and his engineer friend spent most of their time working on their shared obsession - the Thunderbirds. Impressive machines built for a future plan which would include them all.

Alan couldn't begin to explain how proud that made him feel, knowing he had a place awaiting him when he finally followed in his brother's footsteps, to step beside them side by side with one common goal. He wished he knew more about the machines but he was reasonably content to wait, especially now he had friends on the island.

Tintin had arrived a few months after Fermat, her parents the Kyranos becoming the housekeeper and cook. Tintin was the same age as Alan, Fermat was a couple of years younger though his brains and knowledge far exceeded the other two. He was a mini version of his dad, stutter and all.

Alan did enjoy his time growing up on the island but although he'd never admit it, he deeply missed the mainland and his grandma who he never saw enough of anymore, he missed his brothers and counted down the years until he began school and finally joined them. He didn't realized until it was finally his turn to leave for boarding school that Gordon was five years his senior and was due to graduate, once again he was being left behind and the shadows of his brothers before him were long and bore shadows over his own achievements.

By that point all his brother's but Gordon were in college or full time jobs. They led different lives which were full of exciting stories he couldn't add to or relate to in the least, Scott who he had once felt close to was ten years older and when back on the island spent a great deal of time working with his father. The Thunderbirds were going to be launched in the next few months and every detail need to be analyzed, the excitement hung in the air suffocating all else.

_"Sorry Alan, we have work to do but Lady P will be transporting you and Fermat to school. I'll see you in the summer. Keep your head down and grades up."_

He'd bid his farewells to Tintin who he felt awful for leaving behind, she insisted she'd be fine and would busy herself with her own home schooling and working with her parents, plus they could always keep in touch via the internet and she'd visit whenever possible.

The five long years on the island without the majority of his family suddenly seemed to have flown by. He was finally following his brothers though, even if he was at such a distance behind them, one day he'd catch up and he knew they'd be there waiting and proud. If five years on the island felt quick then no doubt five years at school would be equally so.


	3. The Learning Curve

**Is this working as a setup or is it really annoying? I know the first chapters are all over the place but I really wanted to show Alan growing up without spending countless chapters adding unnecessary information just to smooth it out. From now on he's 21 and will remain that way.**  
**In the last chapter Alan was growing up so time was passing, I'd pressume he'd meet Tintin and Fermat at around six years of age (Fermat would be slightly younger). In this fic I've worked it so Alan is ten years younger than Scott who is the eldest, and five younger than Gordon who is the second youngest. Just enough age to create distance.**

Any questions, please ask, and as always reviews are fantastic. They really do help.  
It's so good to have a new fic to play with! 

* * *

"Hello Alan, please take a seat."

Alan closed the office door behind him and headed to the chair in front of the middle aged career advisor's desk. She was the kind of woman who always wore a smile, her bushy brown hair gave her an eccentric appearance which matched her style of clothes. He'd seen her twice a year throughout his college education but this was the final visit before he graduated. After that he was, as she liked to remind him on passing, 'on his own'.

She leafed through a folder containing the various papers and documents Alan had looked through in his three years study, most were a mixture of potential career pamphlets and further study information. All things Alan had never wanted to see as he'd always known where his life led and finally, he was almost there.

"So, you're graduating in a couple of weeks? It feels like only yesterday you were telling me all about your goals and ambitions. Are they still the same or can I persuade you to have a look at some more information? A lot of students are considering gap years before going out into the world to find work. There's some fantastic opportunities out there Alan." She was still leafing through files, pulling some brightly colored pamphlets out and laying them across the table so he could see exactly what those opportunities were.

He leant back in the chair and chose to ignore what was being laid out before him.

The bright summer sun shone through the long windows and lit the dust which floated steadily in the air. The summer had only just erased the spring but he could tell already that it would be a good one, the sun made everything shine, from the smallest particle to the tall clock tower on campus where graduation would take place. The paths were paved with visual gold.

"I'm going home after graduation and then I'll be working with my family, I know you like to broaden my horizons and all but I really can't imagine doing anything else. My whole life seems to have built to this point and I want to enjoy every last second." His smile reflected the thought, beaming out and infectious.

The woman, Sarah, matched his posture and sat back from the desk, finally slipping the folder to one side and ignoring what she'd laid out. She visibly relaxed, nodding as she spoke. "So many students come here not knowing what to do with their lives, it must be wonderful to have a path so well planned out. I wish I was so certain at your age." It could have been a sarcastic response but it wasn't, she was genuinely pleased for him.

"It's a good feeling, I can't lie about that." He laughed lightly, the sound filling the small office and floating out into the warm air beyond. "I just hope my dad can get to see me graduate."

"He's a busy man your father. Did he get to your brother's graduations?"

"All of them." The photos were lined up in his office. "Dad said he'd try to make it, I'm never really sure whether he's trying to wind me up or whether he really is that busy, we'll see on the day."

Sarah nodded, remembering the short newspaper mentions of Alan's elder brothers graduating each of their chosen colleges. Each wearing a beaming smile, each rejecting whatever career advice other advisors had tried to give and joining Tracy Enterprises.

"I look forward to meeting him in person."

"Well, he might be bored of graduations by now. He's been to four."

"Yes, but he hasn't been to yours."

* * *

Hiram was working on a new communication system he had been experimenting with for some time, it was finally coming together and taking form. Eight watches sat in front of him, one for each of the Tracys, including Alan who at twenty one he was sure would soon be asked to join IR. One for himself, and one for Fermat who had started working on the odd mission when their skills were needed.

It had been busy recently so the watches had been put on the back burner whilst he'd completed full system checks and upgrades on each of the Thunderbird machines, including Thunderbird Five with which he'd had to go up to for two week for diagnostics scans.

There'd been a run of earthquakes across the equator which had been picked up poorly by some of their apparatus, the reason for which had been interference from a orbiting satellite passing too close. The positioning of the satellite had been corrected and the problem had ceased, but not before they'd wasted much time running through the checks and upgrades.

He supposed that it wasn't really a waste of time, in the end they'd need doing anyway yet Hiram had really wanted to be working on the watches back on land. He didn't mind going up to Five when it was required but would prefer the frequency to be limited, Hiram suffered from what John referred to as 'space sickness'. It was a good job that John could now do most of the upgrades himself.

The watches in principle were a relatively simple idea. A mobile device disguised as a watch with video technology for video calls and conferencing facilities. For their use on rescue sites they also needed to be high definition, multi-frequency yet able to block interference - such as that from the not such a waste of time satellite and hackers, they needed GPS, tracking software, a signal no matter where the user was, be it underwater or up in space. They needed to be durable, to an extent fireproof, fully waterproof, shockproof, and with programmed voice recognition. They were not as simple as they sounded.

Most of the work had been done sat behind a computer monitor running simulators and programming, then there had been the design of the watches themselves. Small enough to look like a watch, large enough that buttons could be pressed quickly and easily but not by accident. And look good enough to be worthy of the sleek Thunderbirds and their crew, and the Tracy's for that matter. In the end Hiram had color coded them according to their owner.

He was pleased with the result, and excited that the project was coming to an end so he could see them in action and start looking towards his next challenge; a cloaking device for the Thunderbirds to hide them from prying cameras and those seeking to steal their secrets.

It was a huge project and one which he'd been doing odd work on since the fantastic machines had been built, yet by working on other projects he'd furthered his own knowledge and had a basic knowledge of how he could turn the cloaking device dream into reality.

Technology like that had not yet been known to the world, so it would also be a first and draw a lot of attention to the Thunderbirds and who those mysterious operatives actually were.

* * *

The day Alan graduated was overcast and grey, it was warm though and everyone was so excited that it was impossible to feel down. His father hadn't appeared and as the day went by it was made clear that he wouldn't, but Tintin, Gordon, and Fermat had all flown across and helped him celebrate another milestone in his life. He was almost able to forget the niggling replay of the conversation with Sarah, his careers advisor. Almost.

That evening they'd made their way back to the island, Alan with all the hopes and dreams he'd spent his entire life working towards. He carried only one case having given the rest of his possessions away to students who needed then more, he had what he needed back home, some of the kids found it hard to get by without two jobs eating into their spare time and deadlines snapping at their heels.

During the plane journey he watched the world pass beneath the private jet and finally felt as though he'd earned his place as a member of International Rescue, years of hard work, finding a niche in what he could offer as an operative and excel in. Those footsteps he followed were large but now comparable with his own.

His brother's welcomed him with smiles and laughter, enveloping him into their arms with praise and playful banter which he'd learnt to take with a pinch of salt when needed. Surprisingly his father was home, Alan decided not to question the fact, worried of dampening the mood before he'd even settled. Jeff congratulated his youngest and as a welcome home celebration they'd prepped the barbeque, laid out the food and turned up the music. Well, Gordon had turned up the music, but no one had complained.

Parker and Lady Penelope had flown over. Lady P. a vision in pink. sat sipping a cocktail by the pool which Gordon stood in the kitchen talking to Fermat and John. The hum of activity made the extended family feel whole for quite possibly the first time since Lucille Tracy had died.

Tintin looked as beautiful as ever, her smile overwhelming as she walked him around the home Alan hadn't seen since Christmas. For the first time in years he felt as though he had found a place he could finally belong, and ironic or not it was the place he'd strived for so long to leave.

* * *

It was amazing how quickly hopes and dreams could be shattered. Later that evening in the darkened light of Jeff Tracy's office Alan's love for his family reached an all time low. The years of advice and guidance he'd been given through school and college seemed to mock him with silent laughter.

"We just don't need you right now Alan. I'm sorry to tell you today of all days, but there's no easy way of saying it. As things stand there just isn't a place for you as a Thunderbird, I wish I could fit you in somewhere but I just can't."

Alan stood dumbfounded, sure that any moment his father would crack a smile and pat him on the back laughing about the horrendous joke that had left Alan's heart in the pit of his stomach, his brothers would march in with balloons and cards, Gordon's eyes wet with tears and Scott brimming with pride. But no, his father continued to gaze up at him from his seated position behind his wooden paneled desk.

"I can probably find you some work experience at Tracy Enterprises, I'm sure one of our offices can find room for you." He smiled in what Alan guessed was meant to be sympathy. Sometimes he wondered how sarcastic and forced his father's facial expressions could be, especially when his words were against you.

"Right." He didn't know what to say, how to begin a response to the words that had brought the world around him into darkness. International Rescue was his goal in life, he'd never planned an alternative, he'd bee-lined for it since a child. "Didn't…" He massaged his temples with a suddenly sweaty hand, a headache quickly forming as stress and confusion overwhelmed him, his eyes closing for a moment before finally looking back at his father. "Didn't you plan for me to join? Had it not been implied?"

Jeff rolled his eyes and let out a familiar huff of annoyance. "I've never said that Alan, I don't know what your brothers have told you but we never planned for you to become an operative. You were given all the opportunities to do as you pleased, you've always been welcome at home but as for International Rescue… no son, we just don't need you. It's never been an option for you."

For a moment which passed all too quickly he'd felt a deadened calm as the words sank in, but the calm shifted and he felt the rage building, his heartbeat was suddenly rapid and Alan felt breathless and as though his legs would no longer support him. He gripped the back of the chair in front of the desk with white knuckles, he couldn't bring himself to sit as he didn't know whether he'd ever make it back up again. Catching onto the words surprised him, unsure how they were meant.

"I've always been welcome?"

"Alan, look son, you're twenty one. Kids your age tend to form their own lives, you've always had money behind you and there's a lot you could go into." Jeff smiled again, that sickly sweet smile that Alan found he was unable to look at anymore as the headache continued to build.

"How come this hasn't ever applied to the others? How was I ever meant to know that I'd no longer be welcome here after graduation?" His voice began to raise and he tried desperately to control the shake in it but it wavered erratically, adrenaline pumping in his veins making the ability to cope that bit more difficult.

Jeff huffed once more, leaning back in his desk chair and folding his arms over himself, a clear sign that there was no argument. "I didn't say you weren't welcome, just as I have never told you that you would be an operative or would be able to work for the company."

"What about all that stuff you told us when mom died? Sticking together, being stronger as a family? Making something together? What the hell was all of that about if it didn't apply to me?"

"Watch your tone Alan, I'm not listening to another one of your rants. You were five and probably heard what you wanted to hear, and as per usual ignored the facts."

"Heard what I wanted to hear?" Alan bit his lip and turned away in an attempt of composing himself. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Turning back he couldn't help but scowl. "You have told me so many times that if I ever wanted to be worthy of International Rescue then I'd have to be the best at everything I did. That's what I've done Dad! If you'd been at my graduation you'd have seen that! All my life I've followed in the footsteps of my brothers, I've done everything I physically could to be good enough for you and now I'm told that I was never going to be? The family business that I'm not allowed a part of?"

He was losing rhythm, he could feel himself giving in and realization dawning. Why would his family change? After years of not being good enough why would a graduation change anything? Graduation with the highest honors, they all had them, what made him unworthy of their attention?

"I'm not going to listen to you rant on about this Alan, you won't be working for me and that's final. I won't hear another word on the subject. If you want help getting a job elsewhere then I can put in a good word for you, but you really need to learn to stand on your own two feet, you need to grow up and move on. That's the only thing I have ever expected of you yet you continually disappoint."

How could words reply to that? There were no words, just anger and resentment and twenty one years of heartache. Taking one last look at his father with the faintest of hopes of seeing just a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, but there was none.

Alan turned and left the office.

His extended family were still enjoying their pool party celebrating his own graduation, loud music played throughout the house and voices drifted down the hallways and through otherwise quiet rooms. He could hear glasses clinking and someone splashing in the pool, the smell of barbequed meat hanging in the air.

Passing through the open living space and kitchen Alan ignored Tintin's worried eyes from where she stood at the patio doors, he skirted round Parker who was helping himself to another beer, trying to joke with him but not even getting to the punch line before Alan had passed. Both stared after him but he couldn't face them, he had to leave.

In the past Alan would have shouted, he would have screamed and maybe even cried. He'd have slammed his bedroom door and thrown himself onto his mattress, but he'd grown tired and finally given up with it all. None of that had gotten him anywhere, but after years of trying to earn his way in he realized that no matter what he did it was never going to be enough.

Closing the door softly he stood in the darkness of his room and felt the world around him continue turning, it wasn't the end of the world but everything around seemed foreign and cold, a dejected feeling of detachment.

His case was still packed, he'd only recently retrieved it from the plane, it sat lonely on the carpeted floor as though waiting to be returned. Picking it up he turned and without considering alternatives he silently left the island.

Tintin would ring and beg him to return, Scott would try to talk his idea of reason into him, John would try to calm him, Virgil would give him time, and Gordon would joke and try to convince him to return. None of it would work.

He had a life to find, one which didn't remind him of the twenty one years he'd wasted on the hopes and dreams of being a Tracy. Alan had to find himself.

* * *

**If Alan starts wearing tie-dyed clothes and smoking questionable substances "to find himself" I will leave FF. It will not happen, rest assured readers, rest assured!**


	4. The Hurt

**I'm on fire with updates this week, hopefully it'll make up somewhat for disappearing on the last fic for so long.** **Thank you all for the lovely (really lovely) reviews, I get email alerts which are always a tad exciting for a sad and lonely cat woman like me.  
I jest. I'm a dog person and most of my emails are work based so it is nice to see happiness rather than BILL BILL BILL ORDER BILL BILL VIAGRA BILL  
**  
**Love the reviews, love the reviewers.**

**On that note, chapter 4! **  
**The Hurt**

* * *

Holly White's chosen career title was 'freelance investigative reporter', with her CV comprising of short documentary films, most charting the rise and fall of celebrities and the latest scandals. She'd worked on the occasional fluff piece for local news channels and for a short while had a column in the regional paper. Yet she didn't feel successful.

Holly had just finished mourning her thirtieth birthday, the loss of her twenties feeling like a kick in the gut as the achievements she'd hoped to have attained by that point weren't even on the horizon. Younger reporters were getting bigger scoops and she often found herself tracking down her own stories just to keep the pay checks coming in. There were only so many 'cat stuck up tree' pieces the public could take.

It was a dog eat dog world out there, the hassle had become part of her life as had the traveling. Right now she was in the process of packing up yet another desk and heading out to Hawaii to film a piece on a local legend, some old guy who had sixteen kids, sixty eight grandchildren, and thirty one great grandchildren.

Seriously, some people's definition of success was whack. The mere idea of children sent a shiver of disgust down Holly's spine, she was just thankful to have been sent somewhere warm where she could hopefully catch a few rays and top up on her tan.

She wanted a real story, something that would finally cement her name into the media world as someone worth noticing. If she could find that one story worthy of the front page she knew she'd have jobs rolling in.

Holly White was a name that needed to be lit up, typed in bold and underlined twice. She was someone worth paying attention to.

* * *

It didn't take Alan long to get a new phone, the memory of his old one quickly becoming full of messages which his family seemed sure he'd want to hear. At first he'd listened but they were full of false promises and verged on making him feel guilty, he didn't want to listen to anything that made him feel that, he knew he didn't deserve it.

_Alan? Where are you? Your dad's fuming, you didn't even get flight clearance. Call me, I'm worried about you._

_What the hell bro? Seriously, call me as soon as you get this. We only just got back, where are you?_

_Alan. Turn round and come straight back, Dad said you had a disagreement but this is ridiculous. By far the stupidest thing you've ever done. Come home, we're going to be having words. _

_Alan. Your da- da- father wants you to ca- ca- ring. We're worried about y- you. _

_Alan, it's me again, I'm really worried. Can you call me? Please. Just let me know you're ok and where you're staying, if you want I'll come to the mainland and we can talk it through. Whatever it is please just call, you should be here with your family. _

_Hey Al, it's John, I've hardly seen you since you got back. Call me. _

_Alan, come back to the island now. You think I'd let you join the company after a stupid stunt like this? Come home, we're going to have words and not just about your lack of flight clearance and the fact you stole one of the jets. I know you've just graduated but you need to grow up and face the realities of life. _

_Come home Alan, we miss you so much. I miss you, you haven't even called… can you at least let us know you're ok. Ring me, I'll listen to whatever you have to say, I really miss you. _

_Look bro, I know you probably need to cool down but can you give me a call and let us know you're alright? You're sending Scott prematurely grey and Tintin has been crying. She never cries. Call me, or one of us… but if you call me I'll be cool about it, I just want to know you're alright. K? Call me._

_Look Allie, I'm sorry I was harsh before, but I didn't know what dad had said to you. I still think you're being stupid but can you at least call me and tell me what happened? If I've just heard dad's version it's hard to feel sympathy for you when you just up and leave, especially after you've hijacked one of his planes…. Ha… seriously Allie, I'm really worried. Let me know you're ok, even if it's just a text. Let us know something._

_Hey Al, this is like the fifteenth message I've left and I'm a tad concerned. Can you call me? Just give me a heads up that you're ok, let me know where you are and I'll get a flight over. We'll grab some beers and drown whatever sorrows you want. Call me back else I'll keep having the listen to the answer phone woman again and again and again… and again. Anyway! Call or text, a smoke message would suffice. _

_Alan, it's John. Give me a call when you get this. We're all worried and we really miss you, you should have stayed to work things out. Dad was harsh even if he won't admit it, I know you wouldn't disappear over something small. Your home is here Alan, we love you, even if we don't always say it, it's true... Tintin is really upset, she said you looked broken up after you saw dad… I'm so sorry Al. He's fighting his corner but we all want to hear whatever happened from you, we want to understand. Please come back or at the very least just give me a call. I'll be working for the next couple of months so what you say will go no further than me and the stars, I promise. Just please give me a call._

_Alan sweetheart, it's Penny. I can understand if you don't want to talk to your father, we had our own disagreement over the matter and we're still not seeing eye to eye. I can appreciate the hurt you're feeling, he should have never said those things to you. Please let either your family or myself know how you are, I can pass on a message if needs be. I want to know that you're safe and looking after yourself. Your father said you'd not yet touched your bank account which is worrying us, you know how Scott and your father get when they're worried. Let someone know you're ok. We all miss you terribly._

_Can you pick up your damn phone? I must have rang a dozen times now Al, it's ridiculous. Grow up and come home, running away doesn't solve any of your problems. It's just making things worse. Dad's pissed that you didn't even say bye and Tintin keeps crying, I'd have hoped you'd have the balls to at least tell her where you were going. And ok, I'm beginning to worry… so don't make me trace your phone cause you know damn well I will. You're my baby brother. The one time in years we're all finally together and you up and leave. Seriously Sprout, what's the deal? Anyway, call me or I will hunt you down and beat the crap out of you. Bye._

_I know I haven't called as much as the others, I thought you might need time to get your head together. I had hoped you'd come back but as times gone on it's clear that you're not going to anytime soon. I am getting really worried and your lack of contact is killing me, you need to talk to someone and we're all here waiting. Tintin really misses you, as do I. Dad told us what he said and I know he probably left half of it out, we all know what he's like, and you've never really seen eye to eye… You're always welcome in our family Al, you know that, you must. Call me as soon as you can, I'll listen. _

Alan boxed his phone up with a letter and posted it to Tracy Island.

_**"Tintin - I'm fine, I won't be returning. Be angry at me but don't be upset, I'll talk to you soon. Alan."**_

* * *

"What the hell does he mean he won't be returning?" Scott had read the scrawled writing on the piece of paper time and time again, it lay between the four remaining brothers on the large dining table. Tintin stood behind Scott silently, feeling very much like she'd let Alan down by showing them the note. "And why the hell did he send his phone?"

"Is it that much of a surprise?" Tintin sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she glared at Scott. She hadn't slept in days and her head was pounding, yet all she felt was anger.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Alan has spent his whole life dreaming of becoming a Thunderbird, if you didn't know what he wanted then you didn't know Alan. Your dad just destroyed his one and only ambition in life, and on top of that he made out like Alan wasn't even welcome here. He told us his version of events, imagine how that conversation was from Alan's prospective, and bare in mind that he's just graduated!"

Her voice rose sharply and took on a shrillness as her anger bubbled, she'd watched for years as Alan was put down, his achievements went by seemingly unnoticed and his heart broke time after time. It was painful to watch him graduate, eyes flicking into the crowd hopefully as he crossed the stage in front of countless families and smiling faces of other peoples loved ones, only to fall downcast as realization dawned that the one person he hoped beyond hope would make it had not shown.

"He's been struggling for years trying to fit in or to at the very least by accepted by you, he's done everything that's ever been asked of him, he made himself into the perfect candidate and in a few short minutes your father destroyed him! You are all so blind sighted that you can't even see what you've done. Alan's gone because you drove him away, and he's not ever going to come back… Think about it. Think about how you failed your baby brother and how even now you're still placing blame on him and not your stupid selves!"

Spinning on her heals Tintin left the room, afraid of what she'd say if she didn't walk away. Afraid of what she'd do if Scott didn't comprehend.

* * *

Alan had never run away from anything, his whole life had in fact been the exact opposite; He'd faced every problem presented, become the best he could possible be. He'd been strong, he'd tried to be unemotional and he'd become what he'd hoped would be considered someone to be proud of. A brother worth coming home to, a brother worth keeping by your side. A son worth everything and more.

Running away was a far cry from that but in those long minutes after speaking to his father he'd felt the weight of the house around him and all the memories and hurt it held come crashing down, the difficult had become the impossible and he'd felt his sense of control slipping. He couldn't cope with it anymore, without hope his heart had shattered for the last time. He wouldn't let it happen again.

He knew he should have spoken to Tintin, he should have thought things through and reasoned but even days after leaving he struggled to find logic behind his father's words. He'd done everything that had ever been asked of him, everything! Why would his father take Brains on, even Penny and Parker were part of International Rescue. Why when it came to Alan did family not come first?

He was tired and numb, that spur of the moment decision to run away from the situation had left a feeling of relief and acceptance which he hadn't expected and wasn't sure what to do with.

After the long flight to the mainland he'd still felt angry and had a hard job of reining in the emotion, unfortunately someone at the airfield had passed that bit of information to the press who had a field day splashing it all over the entertainment pages of the papers. From whichever side he looked at it Alan wasn't quite sure what the entertainment aspect in his misfortune was.

It had been questioned before as to why he wasn't involved with Tracy Enterprises, of course the public didn't know of International Rescue's relationship with the Tracy's but other signs of Alan's detachment hadn't gone by unnoticed. As if it wasn't a bad enough feeling knowing that he'd been left behind, he didn't need to read it in every magazine and article he picked up. Especially when they all screamed out that he was never good enough.

The "wild" Tracy son, "uncontrollable", "lost", a "burden" on his father. Words which brought him to his knees, none of which were ever true… well, maybe he was lost?

Now though, he finally felt free of it. For a couple of weeks, other than that whistleblower's sly nod to the press at the airport, he went by largely unnoticed by the media. He was unsure whether to stay in the states or whether to try some of that cliché traveling Sarah had often spoke about in order to 'find himself'. Those leaflets she'd spread before him probably held a lot of answers.

Alan had his own savings from the tutoring job he'd worked whilst at college, it was in a separate account which he'd never really seen a use for yet now it seemed as though the run away had been planned a while ago, some distant part of his mind he'd never been fully aware of preparing him for the unexpected direction his life had taken. Maybe it wasn't running away, maybe it was a redo, a start over, the master reset that should have been pressed when his mother died.

After a week of cheap motel rooms and the road beneath rented car tires he found his way to Kansas and his grandmother's home, unchanged over the years yet a welcomed sight to tired eyes. Happy memories were associated with the place which forever seemed flooded with sunlight, the fear of his father or brother's chasing him down weighed on his mind so he knew the trip would have to be a short one.

He wasn't sure whether he could put the memory of his grandmother's home behind him, he had hoped that seeing it again would be a final goodbye but now he wasn't quite sure. It had always served as a shelter from home, somewhere he didn't have to live up to any expectations other than being himself. Memories there were mostly happy, from sun drenched days running through fields with his brothers and playing in the small stream which ran alongside the house, to days spent with their grandmother baking cookies, sheltering from the harsh November rains and visiting the animals in the barn and pastures.

Turning the car up the familiar road, past rusted gates and into the long drive of the old farm, he drove up the dusty dirt track which led to the property. Turning off the engine of that week's rental and taking a deep breath before he stepped out, suddenly aware that he hadn't washed in a few days and needed a shave, he felt good in himself though so wasn't too bothered. She would never turn him away.

The old porch seemed forever in need of a paint and creaked underfoot as he made his way up the steps and to the door, a smile playing on his lips as it was opened before he had even raised his hand to knock, his grandmother's familiar face came into view. As a child he remembered Gordon telling him that she was physic, you could be up to trouble a mile away and their grandma would know about it.

She was surprised, an expression of shock in her eyes before she stepped out to meet her youngest grandson and pulling him into a fierce embrace. Her body shuddered slightly and Alan realized with sudden guilt that she was crying, something he'd never seen her do. The guilt of being the one to cause it made him hug her back all the more before she finally was the one to pull away.

"Hey Grammy. "

Her crying made him remember Tintin and those few answer phone messages she'd left. He'd finally contacted her on the new cell he'd picked up only the day before. She hadn't been happy but the sadness had been directed at his family more than him. If anything that made the guilt of leaving her feel that much worse, she didn't deserve to feel pain over the situation. It wasn't her pain to feel.

His grandma held Alan at arms length and eyed him up and down, shaking her head all the while. "Oh Alan, what in Gods name are you doing baby? You've had us all so worried." She tried to pull him in to the house but he held back for a moment.

"I wanted to see you Grams, but I don't want anyone to know that I'm here. You won't tell them will you?"

He eyed her, weighing up the emotion and honesty of her response. She'd always do what she thought was best for him, as much as he loved and trusted her Alan knew that she'd turn him over to his family if she considered it wise.

She seemed to be weighing him up as much as he was her, again watching with those saddened eyes. Her face looked so much older when it didn't bear the familiar smiles and laughter lines

"Oh, dear, you are hurting a whole lot right now aren't you?" Another embrace followed by a quick kiss on the cheek. "I feel like such an outsider here on the farm, you boys are always so far away and when I do see you there's so much going on that time seems to fall through my fingers. You come inside and tell me what's happened." She pulled him again but this time he allowed her, stepping into the house which shadows held a relief to the midday sun outside. A familiar smell of polish and fresh flowers relaxed his nerves and relieved some of the tension.

Guiding him to the kitchen she took a ice filled jug of lemonade from the fridge and poured them both a glass, homemade and bursting with the life of the lemons she grew out in her garden.

"I don't want to make things awkward for you Grammy, I know you'll have to tell dad I was here but please leave it until I'm gone. I don't want to be followed and I don't want to go home right now. I just wanted to see you."

"Alan baby, I know you'll always do what's right as you always do. I won't talk to your father until he calls me and we both know that with his various work commitments it could be weeks until then, though I have to admit that with things as they are he has called a lot more recently. We've all been so terribly worried."

Alan sipped his drink, leaning against the counter he sighed, wondering whether Tintin had told his brothers of the call, hoping she hadn't but wondering whether or not he really cared.

"I know and I'm so sorry about all the worry I've caused, but things got really messed up this time and I just don't think I can do it anymore. My heart hurts so much Grammy." He laughed shortly, taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves and to prevent his eyes from betraying him. "Everyone has a backup plan, right? I just need to find mine is all."

They stood in silence for a long time, looking at each other with mixed emotions, the shadows in the kitchen seemed to elongate and darken before she spoke though the silence was not an uncomfortable one. Finally she stepped forward and embraced him for the third time, they were always close but she seemed to feel the need to keep repeating the motion as much as he felt the need to accept it.

"Did your father explain things to you?" She asked, catching him off guard.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He turned and gazed out of the kitchen window. He could see the fields beyond the garden and the corn crop which spread over them. Everything looked so peaceful out there, the blue skies stretching out endlessly and the long dirt roads begging to be driven. "What's done is done and all that. He made the situation clear, I got carried away with silly hopes and expectations and I should have known better. I actually feel pretty good about leaving, you know? I don't have all that worry hanging over me anymore, no more expectations or false hopes." Dust blew in the air, gently swaying the fields and giving him the sense of what he always associated to be the smell of summer. "It's like I was on the wrong road for so long but now I'm finally doing what I should have done long ago."

"Alan that's bull poo and you know it."

Her hands went straight to her hips and he was reminded with a stark clarity of the same motion years before when he and Gordon had been caught stealing cookies fresh out of the oven. It hadn't felt so humorous back then but hindsight brought a smile to his face, working along side a frown and removing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"Allie baby, you don't look like you've washed in a week."

"I washed last…"

"Alan." A stern look stopped him mid sentence. "You're as white as a sheet, your eyes are black and you look old. I'm sorry but you're twenty one and that is not 'good' or 'fine' or whatever you want to call it. You shouldn't be doing whatever this is on your own, you need your family and you need to know how much they love you."

"Love me?" He stood up fully from where he had leant against the counter. "If they loved me they wouldn't constantly want me gone, what kind of love is that Grammy? Cause if love makes you feel the way I do then I don't want it."

She stepped forward, an arm reaching out to his. "They do love you Allie, they just don't know how to show it the way they should. If you go home and…"

"No!" He pulled away from her touch, tense with a sudden anger and resentment he knew he shouldn't have felt towards the older woman yet which he couldn't hold back. "I'm not going back, Dad asked me to leave. Did you know that?"

She grimaced and he knew she did.

"He asked me to leave and find my own way in the world, and that's just what I'm doing. I can do that without his or any of my brother's help, I won't be the Tracy failure anymore.." He turned away, hands flat on the worktop as he took deep breaths to settle the anger itching him to leave.

She was there, wary of touching him again but close enough that he could hear the worry in her breathing and sense that she was tense.

"You're not a failure Alan, you have never been a failure in any of our eyes. You need to hear it from them though, they have some explaining to do which can only happen if you're back on the island willing to listen. Running away won't help you find your answers, Alan."

"Running away?" He turned to face her, eyes red and threatening tears he refused to let fall. The sense of a second betrayal from someone least expected seemed so utterly wrong. "He told me to leave! I've done what was asked of me, I always have!"

He headed for the door, afraid, like Tintin had been, that if he stayed he'd say more than he could control. He'd be that young child again without a grip on life, lost without his mother and trailing behind his family. "Since mom died I've been a burden, I've been dragged up from childhood stumbling in footsteps I will never be able to fill. If you knew how that felt you wouldn't be telling me to go home, you'd be telling me to run away, run far away and never stop."

Alan left quickly, her footstep echoing behind him as she struggled to keep up as he made his way back outside, down the creaking porch steps and back to his faded blue rental car. She stood on the porch looking lost and holding a tissue to her face as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

He didn't look back.

* * *

** Keep **  
** Calm **  
** and**  
**Review**


	5. The Found

**I have a few busy & unusually sunny (English) days ahead so there's time for you to mull over all the lovely reviews you're going to leave, the ones left for previous chapters are some of the best I've ever recieved so again, I thank you. It's fantastic to hear that I'm stirring up emotions in not just Alan!**

**As for Holly White, she's an OC created for this story and not a crossover character. All characters are either from the world of the Thunderbirds or created by me. You can steal them, I don't mind. They're not paying rent or anything.**

* * *

Holly had first picked up on the story on her flight back from Hawaii to New York, it was by no means a particularly big story and no one had much to say on the subject, but it was an interesting read none the less. She sighed loudly, sipping her glass of wine and eyeing the low quality black and white photo.

'_Tracy Tragedy_' read the headline in the entertainment section of the paper, an eye grabbing title which immediately reminded Holly of the death of Jeff Tracy's wife, Lucille, drawing her attention to the article below. Holly had only been a girl at the time of Lucille's death, but working in the media world meant that you learnt a thing or two about what the knowledge of past stories could be worth.

The stories and articles back then had been hard hitting and she had felt a great deal of sympathy for the family, but then again what kind of person had five sons? She was from a single parent home and was an only child, the struggles of growing up with that burden alone was difficult. Five children sounded damn well impossible for one parent to manage, to Holly the headline before seemed to have written itself years ago.

'_Youngest son of Jeff Tracy may prove disappointment to family_'

The story continued below.

'_Alan Tracy, youngest son of billionaire ex astronaut Jeff Tracy, founder of Tracy Enterprises, has been spotted a mere day after his graduation from the University of Colorado, not on Tracy Island where the family resides but traveling alone in the states._

_Multiple sources have suggested that a feud exists between father and son leading to Alan's distance. This leads us to question why the youngest Tracy son is not celebrating his graduation with family and/or friends, and whether he did, in fact, graduate at all._

_Following in his four elder brother's footsteps, is Alan Tracy a failure or has the pressure of living up to expectations proved too much?_'

Holly eyed the amateur photo which from the poor quality and definition was obviously taken with a cell phone, but from a distance it was clear that the young man gave off a certain air of depression. From his sunken posture to the blank expression he shot the camera for that brief moment it took to point and click, there was something quite sad about the image. Something which made Holly linger on the story a while longer.

* * *

The night had well and truly set in by the time Alan finally stopped at his next motel, checking in under the predictable alias of Mr. Smith and feeling a sense of dread at no longer being on the move. When he stopped all the thoughts and feelings easily caught up with him and as soon as that motel door closed they came crashing down.

He'd stopped for petrol an hour prior and found himself buying enough alcohol for a small dance party, though admittedly the party only consisted on himself and the only dancing was when his legs no longer listened to his body. He was sure that with the tension he currently felt if he ate he wouldn't be able to keep it down, and that was long before any alcohol had been involved.

Opting for a liquid meal of shots served in tumblers and beer drank by the pack, he decided that whatever fruit flavorings and liquids went into the stuff had to start out as something physically edible. And so, after consuming more units than he thought he could actually survive, Alan ambitiously stumbled towards the bed on a stomach full of alcohol.

Instead he found himself on the floor, head falling into his hands as his whole body seemed to shake with a mixture of alcohol fueled energy and raw emotion, thoughts flying into overdrive. His liquid meal had the opposite effect to what he'd wanted, instead of numbing the pain and heartache it only served to remind him of every tiny detail involved and leading up to it.

The joy of his graduation felt so long ago; surrounded by friends, sunshine and what seemed like an unending happiness that could never be broken. Looking back at something which only ended a matter of weeks ago, it felt as though he was grieving a loss. He wouldn't get that back again, those people would move on and forget about him, just as the kids in high school had, just as he had with them. He'd spent so long clinging onto the hopes and dreams he'd set for his future that he didn't really ever know those people quickly ebbing into his past.

Alan stayed on the floor for some time, knowing he needed to somehow make it onto the bed to finally get some shut eye but he was unable to even bring himself to try. His reverie was broken by the shrill tone of his new phone, ring tone set to default and sounding foreign and somewhat old. After a moment he realized that the only person he wanted to hear right now was on the other end waiting for him to pick up.

Tintin, the one person with his number and the only one who could make things feel better than they were. He'd told her not to call but her voice was what he needed, her calmness and support, and most of all, her love.

He pulled the phone from his back pocket, hands clumsy he nearly dropped it before finding the green button to connect him through, vision swaying as he held the offending object to his ear. Taking a deep breath before trying to find his sober voice, the one which would make her smile.

"Hey Tin."

"Alan it's me. Don't you dare hang up or I will hunt you down and personally see to it that my voice is the last sound you ever hear."

Alan frowned, unable to place the speaker, it was familiar but right now everything seemed familiar, the motel floor was weirdly familiar. 'It's me' didn't help him in the least. He was thrown off guard.

"What?" He tried to sit but as he swung upright gravity pulled him back down the other way. "Who is this?"

There was a short pause of consideration. "Scott… you sound odd, you haven't been drinking have you?"

Oh right, Scott. Alan's life time party-pooper extraordinaire, the guy needed a badge or something. Some kind of Jaws theme tune for whenever he walked into a room.

"Oh. Don't rain on the parade Scott, cause you're not invited." His mind informed him that it was too hot to rain, like, physically too hot. The droplets would evaporate before they hit the ground. Or maybe it would rain, it would rain and never stop and his road trip would turn into a modern remake of Noah's Ark.

"Where are you Alan?" The voice of sudden concern spoke, familiar with a twang of 'all knowing' added for flavor.

To be fair, Alan's experiences with alcohol had never been good as both knew, he'd have a few beers when out with friends but usually stuck to sugar filled alternatives or water. Luckily the memories of the incidents when he had drank more than he should were either gone with the lost brain cells or blurred into a confused recollection of memories. The pain filled days afterwards should have told him long before picking up the liquid that it would not be worth it.

"Motel." Alan mumbled noncommittally, unsure whether he should have said bar or strip joint just to wind his brother up.

"And just how much have you drank?"

He could remember the first few bottles, but after that he wasn't too sure. Tastes lingered in his mouth that left his teeth feeling oddly furry, there'd been a cocktail of everything partying on his tongue. Mixing was never good yet it was so easily done.

"I don't know, obviously not enough. I have this irritating buzzing sound in my head which is blatantly not Tintin." Alan found himself giving the phone a dirty look, realizing after a moment that Scott wouldn't receive it over the line. "What do you want?"

"Allie, you need to stop drinking, nothing good ever comes out of it, especially when you're feeling like you do. You know that. And I'm ringing because I'm worried about you."

It should have been Tintin's voice, she should have been the one saying that. "Why are you on Tintin's phone Scott?"

Scott sighed down the line, it was a quiet line making the younger brother briefly wonder where Scott was exactly. Possibly back home but away from noisy family members. "I'm on my cell Al, I swiped the number from Tintin… she doesn't know. She said you'd spoken to her but I really needed to hear your voice. I'm worried about you Allie, really worried."

"Why do people keep saying that? I went through school and college on my own, amazingly I can manage without people constantly breathing down my neck." He growled, finally finding enough energy and balance to sit upright. "I'm not coming home."

"This is a bit different baby bro, and you know it. What are you doing anyway? Any chance you want to let me know where you are?"

Alan laughed, the idea of Scott jumping on the first flight over was disconcerting and something he knew his eldest brother would happily do. "Oh you know… driving, taking in the sights, more driving. I'm actually thinking of writing a motel travel guide of places you wouldn't want to die."

There was a silence again, it was a poor choice of words and something in Alan's mind told him to shut up, the dark hole he was on the edge of loomed dangerously close and if he kept leaning over it he was sure to fall. Maybe it wouldn't be a long drop, he doubted it would feel too bad in comparison to what he already felt.

"I hope that's the alcohol Allie, cause you don't sound like yourself right now. I really would like to see you."

The mother hen had well and truly landed, any harsh tones Scott had planned had been long forgotten giving way to a concern Alan had never appreciated the depths of.

"Why do people suddenly want to see me? It all ends the same Scooter! Lecture me on twenty one years of wasted dreams and tell me I need to move on. You will sound just like Dad and Grandma. Even when I try and do just that I have people chasing me down and making me feel two foot tall. I don't need to hear it."

"You've seen Grandma?"

Tears came as Alan leant back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He should have hung up but it was Scott and although the guy often tore him apart with his words he'd also practically raised him. He felt so utterly alone, losing that voice at the end of the phone felt painful.

"Yeah." He sniffed loudly, rubbing his eyes with his sweatshirt whilst he forced deep breaths into his lungs. The stupid tears wouldn't stop. "Didn't go too well, call her and say I'm sorry will you? I'm really sorry, it wasn't her fault. She didn't do anything wrong."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm not coming home Scott. I'm going to make Dad proud, I don't know how but I'm going to become someone worth being proud of, you know? You'll be proud Scott, I'll make you so happy and Dad will want me in the family, not just photos and arguments anymore. Mom would be proud to, if she could see me she'd be so, so proud!"

The words were broken, repetitive and half mumbled, but Scott understood them and he took his time to reply. His voice taking on a more clipped tone. It had been a long time since Alan had spoken of their mother to any of them, and the emotion dripped from his words like heartbeats clinging to life.

"What did Dad say to you, before you left?"

Alan laughed again, it was a bitter laugh that said more than he felt his words could. He didn't want to explain, to go through it out loud when his mind replayed the scene over and over and over, refusing to leave him be.

"Brains hasn't invented a hangover cure has he? Because tomorrow morning I'm going to have the mother of all." He rolled over and tried to find his legs, stumbling into a side table, swearing as he stubbed a toe before finally making it onto the bed with a groan.

"You sound like your about to pass out." Scott commented warily. "Drink some water, that'll help in the morning. Though by the sounds of things you'll be wishing you hadn't touched that alcohol buddy."

"Hmm." He groaned again, lifting his head and forcing his eyes open to locate none alcoholic liquid, there was an empty glass on the nightstand but the only water was in the taps located in the small en suite right at the other side of the room. "The water is miles away Scotty, I think I'll just wait for it to come to me. You wait for one and three come at once."

"That's buses. Haven't you got any bottled water?"

He usually had bottled wherever he was, it was a habit he'd gotten into since high school and carried with him through college. He looked up again, eyes blinking into focus as he took in the bags sat by the door to the room. His suitcase was among them though it just held clothes, some small shopping bags from the gas station stood besides it yet he was pretty sure he'd just bought alcohol and some kind of food he couldn't find the will to stomach. At the time alcohol had seemed a high priority.

"Grammy had some pretty good homemade lemonade." He was sure he hadn't drank the whole glass, the ice would have melted but the drink itself was sat far, far from reach. "I think the tap's closer.

There was a moment of silence down the line before Scott let out a long breath and replied. "You're turning me prematurely grey. Can you tell me where you are? I need to see you and I'm pretty sure you'd benefit from some home comforts right now. I can fly right over, I might miss the worst of the hangover but I can help piece you back together and hold the bucket for you to spew in. Are you still in Kansas?"

Alan just sighed, he was nodding but it didn't really register. The feeling of sleep was overwhelming.

* * *

_Love you Mom._

_Love you more, Allie._

When Alan awoke the world felt as though it was in the process of exploding around him. Literally, as though his head was right at the centre of an atomic explosion, yet unlike a similar event he couldn't help but remember which involved a lot of snow and splintering wood, the world around him remained still.

His stomach churned like a fairground ride, the slightest movement could risk his insides spilling out over the cheap, already stained motel room carpet. His body begged for water as though he hadn't drank in days yet still the tap seemed too far to make the effort worth while.

"I wish I was dead." He mumbled, not quite sure whether he meant it or not, the sound of his raspy voice and the pain that pounded through his body told him he was either already in hell or still very much alive and feeling every resounding heartbeat.

There was movement from the foot of the bed as someone stood and the weight of where they'd been sat lessened. There were footsteps and he could hear the sound of water from the en suite, too loud, far too loud.

"Don't you ever say that."

Alan jumped back against the headboard, eyes blinking blindly around as he was brought painfully to his senses. Scott was sat right there besides him with a glass in hand and a look of intense worry on his face.

"You scared the hell out of me!" He hissed.

"Yeah, well imagine how I felt when you went quiet on me last night, you didn't even hang up! Silence on the end of the phone line is not a comforting sound, even if it was followed by some rather loud snoring." He held the water forward and Alan struggled into a position to drink it, although thirsty it was hard to swallow and his stomach protested against the cool relief it brought.

Scott leant down by the nightstand and pulled a plastic bin forward, presumably brought in from the en suite at some point. Alan no sooner took it than his stomach emptied itself, a depressing story of the night before in liquid form. It didn't even look like sick, merely half a dozen vodka bottles regurgitated with a twist or beer injected fun.

"Jeez Alan, what the hell were you thinking?"

There was worry in Scott's voice, he carried it well yet disappointment hung there etching his words. The young blonde was used to that, he heard it so often from the rest of his family that it washed right over.

"I wasn't, Scott. That was the point." No one drinks for the hangover. "When did you get here anyway?"

"Yeah, nice to see you to little bro." Scott ran a hand through disheveled hair, leaning away from the stench of the bin as Alan emptied his stomach one more time. "I had Brains trace your call and flew Tracy One over to the nearest airport."

Alan leant back and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and wondering whether he could slip back into sleep. Scott watched him for a few long minutes before letting out a long and loud sigh.

"John's here. He co piloted."

"I'm not going back with you." Blue eyes blinked back into awareness and bore into Scott's, hard and cold with determination, angry yet betraying how scared he was with the prospect. "I didn't ask you to come out, I don't need your sympathy or disappointment or you telling me how stupid and irresponsible I am. I don't need it so if that's your plan then you might as well leave now cause I'm not playing games, I'm staying right here."

Scott's heart at that moment shuddered, he was tired from worry and the long flight, he hadn't slept in days, possibly weeks. Tintin had been so upset after her outburst, how was it that she seemed to understand Alan's hurt more than he? He'd tried to be there for the kid, he'd tried to be the big brother Alan needed, he really had.

Taking the bin away he placed it on the floor far enough away that the smell wasn't overpowering, feeling relatively safe that Alan wasn't about to spew his guts out over himself or Scott. Leaning onto the bed he grasped his brothers hand and desperately sort his eyes.

"You need to tell me what I've done wrong Allie, cause I can see how hurt you are. It's not just dad this time, it's all of us."

Alan wiped a stubborn hard across his face trying to mask watery eyes.

"You haven't done anything wrong, none of you have. This is me." He sniffed. "I'm sorry that I worried and pissed you off, but you've just got to walk away Scooter. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, maybe it's just time I found out."

Scott recalled Alan's drunken words from the night before. "This isn't about dad being proud of you is it? Cause that's bull, dad will always be proud of you." He was still squeezing Alan's hand but the gesture wasn't returned. "We're all desperately proud, you couldn't make us any more so."

"Ha." He pulled his hand away and forced a smile. "I'll never be good enough to wear the badge though, will I?"

Scott knew that this was what his father's disagreement with Alan had been about, Alan had always been stubborn but the hope of following in his elder brother's footsteps had always burned so brightly and shone out above all others.

"That has nothing to do with him not being proud of you…You know that right?"

"What's it about then? Enlighten me because dad made it pretty damn clear."

"Dad… what? He obviously didn't mean it like that!" He was angry at his father, but his anger with Alan's stubbornness didn't help matters. "He wants to keep you safe, he doesn't want to risk anything happening to you."

Alan looked like hell, his skin was clammy and his eyes were bloodshot but he used the energy he had to pull away from Scott and sit upright.

"If that was it then how come he trusts you, John, Virgil and Gordon to look after yourselves? None of you were ever turned away because you might not be safe. Stop trying to make excuses for him."

Scott was a bit lost on how to reply to that one, the kid had a point. Though if Scott were to ever put it into words, which he wouldn't, he'd much rather Alan stay safe than to risk his life with the rest of them. He was his baby brother and he couldn't bare having the worry of him on rescues, he had the potential of becoming a distraction.

Alan must have seen something flash in Scott's eyes as he frowned. "You don't want me on rescues either, do you?" The words were slow, pained as realization dawned on the youngest Tracy. "You agree with dad."

Scott's eyes widened and for some long seconds he looked like a fish out of water, gulping down air as he tried to find the words which would make this more bearable. "It's not that I agree with Dad, I just worry about you and…"

"And think I'm a liability? Immature? Inexperienced? Spit it out Scott, at least Dad could put it into words."

Shit. The kid literally looked like his heart was in the process of being torn out, he looked and felt like death and as if the day couldn't get worse, a very grumpy looking John decided to stroll into the motel room at that precise moment.

Scott wasn't sure whether to reply to Alan or turn to John and try to sweep that conversation under the carpet for a later date, but thankfully (or not) John saved him the hassle of having to decide and came straight over to Alan.

"Alan! Welcome to the land of the living, it was nice of you to finally join us." He smiled sarcastically and disdainfully eyed the bin on the floor before meeting Alan's glare. "Don't look at me like that, we've full on bounty-huntered your ass and I can tell you that it was not easy. I can't remember the last time I got a full nights sleep and Scott here has been having a major freak out ever since you got yourself blabbered and passed out whilst on the phone. It takes some doing Al, it really does."

He let himself fall back onto the bed with a long drawn out sigh, eyes closing for a moment before he huffed and stared up at the blue eyes that continued to glare back. John was usually the calmest of the Tracy sons, laid back and open to explanations of madness or whatever actions may have be considered such. He spent a large part of the year up in space with only the stars for company, reading and running system checks couldn't be done on a mind which was easily stressed. John Tracy without sleep however, that was a mind you did not want to get on the wrong side of.

Alan had the feeling of a rabbit caught in the headlights, he wished so badly that he could go back and not have drank that alcohol, not have answered the call from Scott and not have landed himself in the dingy motel. Hindsight was a powerful thing.

He shifted his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pain the movement sent through his body, and most of all skull, his stomach was doing back flips and the light from the small window pierced his eyes. He'd prefer the pain his body felt to the words spoken by Scott and John though, he'd run away for a reason and nothing they said had led to any guilt from his actions.

Ignoring Scott's questioning look and something muttered under John's breath, Alan stumbled to the en suite and quickly shut the door behind him, just in time for his stomach to dry heave into the sink.

* * *

"What are we going to do?" John moaned, beyond fed up and begging for some kind of rest before any action was taken. "I just got off the phone to dad, if we don't get Alan back to the island soon he's going to turn Hulk on us."

Scott smiled sadly, hanging his head in his hands. "I don't know John, Alan's not going to come willingly and I don't much fancy forcing him onto a plane."

"The alternative is leaving him to do this stupid alcohol induced tour of America, I know which action I'd rather take. To hell with what he thinks, he's still a kid."

"He's twenty one, Alan's legal and can technically do whatever the hell he wants." Scott stood, glancing at the closed bathroom door as the sound of water came through. "If we take him back with us then what's he going to do? Dad won't let him sign up. There's nothing for him, as much as I don't want to let him go I can see where he's coming from."

John sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Well he needs to at least speak to Dad, he can't just run off." He frowned. "I'm surprised at you."

"How so?"

"For someone who worries so much you're awfully quick to let him out into the world, no back up, no Tracy protection, nothing. You can see how self destructive he is right now, he's destroying everything he's worked for, everything he is. Alan doesn't know what he wants right now, he's in the middle of a crazy breakdown traveling down the highway to nowhere without brakes."

Scott knew John was right, and the worry was there, riddled with concern over what would be the right thing to do. Alan had mentioned their mother the night before and it had caught him off guard, now he was questioning the decision he'd made before he'd even flown over - to bring Alan back or let him ride the storm, hoping he'd come out at the over end.

Alan was volatile, he could be irrational, childish and irresponsible, but so could the rest of them. No matter what the kid said, Scott knew it wasn't Alan who'd messed up, it was his family. They'd all let him believe that he'd become a Thunderbird, and that included their father whether he'd admit it or not. After Tintin's outburst they'd spent a long time considering where they stood, and when it came down to it their decision was one Alan would never have liked.

They'd lost Mom. They couldn't lose Alan, he was the last and strongest connection they had to her. She'd died with her arms wrapped around him, protecting her child from the world and all the hurt and pain that came with it. Letting Alan work in danger zones on rescues seemed to go against that one last act of love.

Alan could not become a Thunderbird. It was an unspoken truth and was never really an option any of them considered. Alan had never had a choice in the matter and never would, he'd grown up faster than they'd ever had liked and no amount of backtracking on promises would fix those promises and tainted words.

Scott waited until the water in the en suite stopped, he felt so defeated but slowly nodded.

"Ok, we'll take him home."


	6. The Lost

**Hey guys, what a fabulous weekend! The English beat the Americans at Eurovision (you might as well start entering, you're as European as some of the entries) and the sun continues to shine. I hope you've had a good one wherever you are, thank you so much for the reviews.**

**RE writing the other side of Alan & Scott's phonecall - I thought about it but I'm not sure as to whether it would confuse things later on, if you're still wanting it at the end of the fic then I'll add it as a oneshot otherwise forgive me - your imagination will have to guide you. **  
**Also, Alan isn't going to be signing up for the armed forces, though I do like the suggestion!**

**To all of you currently going through exams, _always_ make sure there's not a question on the back page! I took an art degree - no exams, and now a science degree - no exams. I also didn't use UCAS to get into uni so possibly not the best person at giving advice. GCSEs are a bugger but the summer sits on the other side, you can't ask for a bigger incentive than that!** **Alevels are also stressful but then you're free to the ridicliously unorganised structures which call themselves universities and charge you 9k a year to attend. Yay!**

* * *

Seventeen hours later Alan found himself sat in the booth of a nearby diner staring down at a plate piled high with pancakes. It almost felt like the final meal of a convict, the executioners his own brothers sat opposite, ready to drag the twenty one year old to his own personal hell. It was a dramatic idea, but he couldn't have described it any other way.

Though admittedly, sat there with the bright morning sun streaming through the line of windows, Alan was more than thankful that his body felt more or less human again, alcohol free and enjoying the sensation of not having to reject the contest of his stomach every few minutes.

John had got a good night's sleep and was in an improved mood to when he'd first walked into the dingy motel room to greet his hung-over brother, the older blonde still wasn't happy with the situation but with sleep induced placidity he was less prone to outbursts and comments Alan felt overly harsh.

Scott still appeared as though he'd hardly slept, his ebony hair stuck up at odd angles whilst he cradled his fifth cup of coffee as though it were his first. Sometimes the similarities between Scott and Jeff were startling.

Alan on the other hand had spent the last seventeen hours considering his options, it had been made quite clear to him that he had no say in the matter of whether or not he wanted to return to the island, yet he couldn't find the willpower to prepare himself for the prospect. Going home wouldn't fix any of his problems, if anything things would get worse - he saw the future of that scenario clearer than the pancakes in front of him. His father wouldn't give him the welcome home of which he'd deserved upon graduation, it would be more like the one he'd been given.

Jeff would lecture, Alan would get irate and allow his anger to control his words - answering back and driving his emotion with outbursts of negativity rather than sense and understanding. They'd incite a long and very loud argument which would eventually result in door slamming and an atmosphere you couldn't cut with a chainsaw. And with four brother's who would undoubtedly take his father's side, saying it wouldn't end well was an understatement.

It wouldn't end well for Alan. It never ended well for Alan.

He let out a long suffering sigh and gazed over at his two bounty hunters, in a way he wished that they were more cocky about the whole thing, if they were complete asses about it then at least what he was about to do wouldn't have felt so…

No, screw that. Guilt wasn't even on the horizon, though maybe there was a sunset of sympathy that he'd eventually find the willpower to overcome - they'd have to deal with the anger Alan would have had directed at himself, the anger they'd willingly lead him straight into. No, it wasn't guilt he felt.

Ignoring the plate in front of him he pulled his cell phone from a pocket he opened the messages and composed a new one, typing for a moment before his eyes glanced up to the two brother's opposite.

"How's Tintin doing?"

They looked up back at him, Scott from his coffee and John from his own phone from which he'd been sorting out a flight plan. They were still weighing up Alan's new found blasé resignation of being taken home which had only appeared earlier that morning, the day before had seen an angry young man lashing out with anything he thought may sway their minds.

John had compared Alan's behavior to the seven stages of dealing with grief; Denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, hope, and finally acceptance. The bargaining stage had been a memory he'd not soon forget.

"She's been pretty much ignoring us since you left, apart from that I'd say she was fine." Scott downed his coffee and easily caught the waitresses attention for a refill, after she'd filled his cup Scott frowned at his youngest sibling. "You know she read us the riot act, don't you?"

"The what?" Alan frowned back unsure if he even wanted to know, he continued to type into his phone.

"The riot act." John repeated. "She went postal on us about why you left. Made us feel pretty damn guilty about whatever dad said to you, though I have to point out that she has as much of an idea about what dad said as we do."

"Oh?" A minute went by until he finally set the phone down and began stabbing the pile of pancakes with a fork. "Where's that guilt now?"

"Well, dear brother. After flying across continents, getting next to no shut eye for weeks, having to sleep in possibly the worst bed in the states, not to count eating food that tastes as though it was made in a cardboard box factory, and having to make a phone call to Dad explaining the situation?"

Scott smirked at John's choice of words. "Guilt long gone." He finished, swiping a hand through the air as though to demonstrate. "We're doing right by you Alan, you might not see it but when it comes to you we'll always do whatever we see best."

"You need to sit down and talk to Dad. No shouting and none of your renowned backchat, just listen to him and you might actually get somewhere. This isn't going to sort itself out." John turned back to his phone, missing Alan's eye roll.

"Sure, whatever…" His phone beeped but he ignored it, letting out a loud sigh. "I'm not that hungry, feel free to finish these." He pushed his plate across the table, the pancakes were riddled with holes yet Scott dived in without having to be asked twice. "Mind if I go wash up before we head off?"

Receiving head nods from both brothers Alan got up, patting the creases from his pants before scanning the quiet diner to locate the familiar sign. Bingo. The restrooms were right by the kitchen.

Humming to himself as he made his way over, Alan glanced back to see Scott still scoffing the pancakes and John who was just about finished with the flight plan. They thought they were doing best by him but they were painfully predictable, again Alan didn't feel guilt, and the sympathy he expected to feel had been cut away by John's poor choice of words.

If Gordon had been sent maybe things would have ended differently. For a start, Gordon wouldn't have allowed himself to get pick pocketed, easily and unknowingly losing the car keys when distracted by a plate of food.

Gordon also would have picked up on Alan's all too easy acceptance of being taken back to the island, but unlike John and Scott Gordon would have known better than to shrug it off as Alan dealing with it. He'd have also questioned Alan's phone messaging, as the young blonde had previously told them that only Tintin had his number.

And lastly, Gordon would have definitely made sure that Alan was actually going to the restroom and not strolling along the corridor, past said restroom, through the kitchens and out the back exit into the bright morning sun. Car keys twirled round a finger, a skip in his step.

No. Gordon would have made things difficult.

Alan's phone remained on the diner table, one new message.

_Sorry guys. The alcohol was a one off. Big mistake, won't happen again. Know you mean well but back off for a while, k. Seeing you was reassuring, I have more of an idea of what I'm going to do so thanks. TTFN! Al x_

* * *

He must have dozed off at some point, Jeff was aware of a distant ringing but it took some long seconds to realize that it was coming from the phone right in front of him. Pushing his head up from a desk of scattered papers he grasped the offending object and accepted the call before it rang out, eyeing the contact warily before concern took over.

"Mom? What is it?"

"Hello to you to." Came the slightly amused reply on the other end, maybe she could hear the sleep in his voice. "Any news on your runaway?"

He'd spoken to her about Alan the week before, unfortunately Virgil had spoken to her first and she'd been upset that she hadn't been informed immediately from the boy's father. Truth be told Jeff was embarrassed by the whole situation and had hoped that it could have been resolved sooner.

"Sorry, you caught me sleeping on the job. Scott and John have gone to get him, they should be back later this evening." He sighed, rubbing weary eyes and suppressing a yawn. He'd need a few pots of coffee before that arrival and the oncoming storm it brought with it.

"Oh. I see. Is Allie ok with that?" She didn't sound happy, but surely bringing the kid home was a positive. They were all worried, having him back would settle many a nerve.

"I've no idea but I need to try and sort things out, I knew he'd be upset but he really took the whole thing too far. The sooner he grows up the better." It was a harsh analysis, he knew it yet it was all for Alan's own good, he was damn lucky to have people around him who loved him as they did and wanted to protect him in such a way.

"Jefferson, can you hear yourself? Your son is twenty one years of age, he's a fantastic young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders." She tutted down the phone line, Jeff was thankful that she hadn't rang on the video phone, the expression would have been a hard one. "I don't know what you said to him exactly but I fear that you are just making things worse."

"How so? How can we sort anything out when he's gallivanting around America and not accepting calls from anyone but Tintin? If he won't talk to me then things aren't likely to get any better, are they mother?"

"Don't take that condescending tone with me, Jefferson. He's my grandson and I have the right to worry, and what would Lucille say? Alan may be your youngest but he's twenty one Jeff. Twenty one!" She stressed the point, letting a long breath keep Jeff from replying. "As much as I hate any of my grandsons, or you for that matter, constantly endangering yourselves in the business, I don't understand why Alan is the only one you are preventing for becoming apart of that. He was so upset Jeff, so upset…"

"You've seen him?" Jeff ignored the reference to his late wife, lately he'd stopped considering what she'd think as he knew it would override him with guilt. But he did have his reasons, and one of them was quite simply love. "Mom, you've seen Alan?"

"He came to the farm a couple of days ago, I had hoped to keep him for at least a few days but he was very hurt and I did just what you are doing now. I tried to get him to return home." She sniffed, audibly upset by the experience. "It just pushed him away Jeff, he's not ready yet. He needs time and your patience and understanding, and more than anything I feel that he needs an apology."

An apology. Perhaps the words Jeff had used were ill thought out, but what he had said would have been equally harsh no matter how he'd phrased it. He wasn't ready to risk losing his baby, his last link to Lucille who carried so many of her traits and features that it was often hard to look upon him without seeing her spirit shining through. He wasn't ready to let Alan become a Thunderbird, and he feared he never would be.

* * *

Gordon took a running leap and dive bombed into the pool, a small tidal wave engulfing Virgil for a second before he spluttered to the edge uttering a barrage of insults as he went. Gordon resurfaced with a smug grin on his face, bowing to his imaginary spectators before starting to swim lengths.

He wasn't altogether sure what all the fuss with Alan was about, loads of kids took gap years after college to 'find themselves'. It wasn't anything new and if Alan wanted to do it then he figured good luck to him, even though it was more a gap year flounce than a planned excursion Gordon had quickly made the decision that no news was good news.

Though knowing Alan was alright had helped, the anger at their father followed by the silence had been eerie to say the least. Alan was the type of person who brought life into a room just by entering it, he had a way with people and even though he tended to voice his thoughts he was usually forgiven for his badly worded blunders.

The one thing Gordon regretted about the whole situation was the fact that he wasn't going to have the summer to spend with his only younger brother, he'd been looking forward to catching up and having a good time. It wasn't going to be just the summer anymore either, Alan had graduated from college so technically should have remained on the island for the foreseeable future. A fact which would have been helped by a certain job opportunity.

He stopped mid length and turned to Virgil who had pulled himself out of the pool and was in the process of drying his dark mess of hair on a towel, he'd been unusually quiet recently and was no substitute for Alan when it came to fun. Fermat sat on one of the loungers, papers and books spread before him as he worked through whatever project he'd been undertaking with his father. Alan and Fermat were always close friends but again, Gordon didn't connect with the kid as he did with Alan.

"Hey, Virg?"

"Hmm?"

Gordon folded his arms over the pool edge, frowning up at his brother through the glare of the sun. "Where do you stand on the whole Alan becoming a Thunderbird thing?" He chewed at his bottom lip, unsure whether to bring it up with Fermat around but preferring his presence on the subject to that of Scott or John.

Virgil had obviously had the same topic on his mind as it didn't take him long to respond. "I'm not too that happy with the idea, but I hadn't really thought about it until Tintin brought it up. Why?" He dropped the wet towel at the end of the sun lounger next to Fermat's and sat.

"I was just wondering." Gordon mused, remember Tintin's outburst. "I don't think any of us have actually thought about it, not seriously anyway." He pushed away from the edge and let himself float back, gazing up at the endless blue sky which seemed to constantly surround the island.

He wondered how easy Scott and John would be having it getting Alan back, an irate Alan wasn't someone any of them wanted to be around so the prospect was uncertain. They'd asked Gordon to go but he'd opted out, though for a difference reason altogether.

"Why do you think he won't take our calls?" Virgil asked after a few minutes of silence, looking between Gordon and Fermat with a furrowed brow. "I can understand why he'd ignore dad, but why us?"

Maybe it was embarrassment, Gordon thought, though Alan wasn't the type of person to suffer embarrassment quietly, he'd merely raise the stakes. "I have no idea." The kid hadn't even said goodbye when he'd walked out, he'd barely even said hello. "I have this guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach though."

"Huh." Virgil snorted. "I know the feeling. Though I'm not looking forward to the show down when he gets off that plane."

"Have you spoken to him Fermat?"

Fermat looked up from the papers, shaking his head shortly.

"No. Ju- jus- only Tintin."

He didn't look too upset but Gordon had no reason to doubt what he said. He'd put up with a lot of Alan's upsets in the past, maybe he was just riding it out, waiting for the dust to settle and his old friend to return to his usual self.

"He won't be back." Gordon commented shortly.

Virgil stared down at him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, not now. Eventually he will, but not anytime soon… I have this feeling and I just don't think he'd let Scott and John bring him home until he was ready, and judging by the fact that he's still ignoring us I'd take a guess of saying that he's not."

"I would have to ag- agree." Fermat chipped in, picking up a book and flicking through pages noncommittally. "Alan has never been one t- t- to be told wh- what to do."

Virgil lay back on the lounger, deep in thought for a few minutes.

"Scott's going to be pissed."

"You think?"

* * *

Pissed was an understatement, Scott was fuming and the flight home did little to distil the anger and frustration directed at his youngest brother. Worse than anything, he felt like a complete idiot for falling for it.

He blamed Parker for Alan's excellent pick pocketing abilities, Scott knew he had the keys when they entered the dinner and had sat opposite Alan the whole time, how the kid had managed it was verging on impressive. Not that he'd ever tell him such.

After John had realized that Alan had in fact left a message on his abandoned phone for them, they immediately considered hunting him down, hogtying the kid and dragging him home one way or another. Thankfully he hadn't taken the car, the keys sat abandoned on the front seat but the kid's luggage had gone. The young blonde couldn't have gotten far, yet no matter which way they drove up the interstate there was no sign of him leading them to think that Alan was not on foot.

Scott had thought of calling home and admitting their ridiculous failure, but he wasn't quite ready to face his father's wrath so had elected that they leave the fireworks until they'd touched down on the island. Though they had dawdled and wasted time considering their options, soon they were in the air and the journey home went quicker than they would have liked.

"This is ridiculous, we did our best and that's all he can ask." John had been muttering all the way back, trying to reassure and find words that would somehow make the situation better. "Dad can't find fault in that, and if he does it doesn't reflect on us. It's just his anger directed at Alan."

"Since when did you turn into a shrink?" Scott sighed, rubbing his eyes from a mixture of stress and tiredness.. He swung his bag onto his back and followed John down the steps of the small Tracy jet.

"Well I have you lot and dad to take care of, plus I spend a lot of time in space with only the stars and books for company. Call me geek boy all you want but I think that qualifies me to be able to make credible excuses for the lecture we're about to receive from Dad."

Thankfully it wasn't their father that greeted them at the main house, but Gordon and Virgil fresh from the pool looking far too smug at the obvious turn of events.

"I definitely should have put money on that." Gordon grinned, stretched out on one of the large couches clutching a beer.

"How'd it go, other than the not returning part?" Virgil asked, a hint of sympathy mixed with his amusement.

Scott grimaced whilst John just rolled his eyes, if you had to sum up the trip then facial expressions said more than any amount of words.

"It's Alan. How do you think it went?"


	7. The Friend

**Sorry, this is a really short one. The next chapter may clue you in to where I'm heading with the storyline, I'm still setting up the game plan so I hope you're hanging in there? **

**Thanks again for the fabulous reviews.**

* * *

It was late, Tintin was in bed watching the beginnings of a storm outside her window. Rain had began to run down the glass distorting the flashes of lightning in the distant skies, the sound mixed with the rumbling thunder was peaceful beyond words, it was a sound she could have fallen asleep to.

That was until her phone gave a shrill cry, cutting through her drifting thoughts she was forced from her reverie to roll over and check the screen. Unknown Number. Accept call?

She sighed, taking a moment to decide whether she wanted to know or even bother with finding out who the mystery person on the end of the line was, especially at that time of night. She debated declining and sending the caller straight to her voice mail with the pretence that she was already asleep like the quiet house around her.

Curiosity soon betrayed her though and before she knew it a familiar voice broke into the storm filled air.

"Hey, Tin."

She smiled widely, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. Thankful to her curiosity. "Hey yourself! What's with the new number? I almost didn't pick up."

"Ah, sorry about that, I'm actually on a payphone. I'll pick up another cell at some point but I just wanted to say hi… How are things?"

She thought Alan sounded more upbeat than the last time they'd spoken, the stress in his voice had decreased and the amused tone he'd always carried in the past was resurfacing. It was a nice sound, it beat the storm.

"I'm good Allie. Missing you, wondering what you're doing, you know. How are your adventures? I haven't received any of the countless postcards or emails that I am in no doubt that you've been sending."

Alan had sent her cards in the past, especially through his college years. Looking across her darkened room she could see them tacked over the messy desk in a rainbow of different colors, lit up by a flash of lightning with the smiles and embraces of the photos surrounding them. Some of the cards were just to say 'hey, what's up?', and others were for birthdays, valentines, Christmas. Anything he could have found an excuse to send a card for.

He laughed lightly, the sound lifting her soul. Damn, she missed him. So did Fermat for that matter, but Tintin missed Alan in a whole different way, she just wasn't sure he realized the extent or whether he reciprocated the emotion or understood just how much those cards meant to her.

"You should come out Tin, spend some of that vacation time you're due. I'm loving being on the road but it would be great to spend some time catching up."

"You miss me?" She grinned madly to herself, wondering how annoyed everyone on the island would be if she followed suit and 'did an Alan' so to speak. Not literally of course. Ha.

"Of course I do! Come out to the mainland… Just for a week or so, keep me company for a while. Be my travel buddy."

"I'm not sure Allie, your brothers are pretty upset that you're talking to me and not them. I'm not going to be the source of any arguments between your family and you."

Since her outburst things had been awkward to say the least, her anger had rode that wave of emotion for a few long days but eventually she'd given up even trying to make them see how upset she was. They were worried about their brother, Jeff was worried about his youngest son, and Fermat and Brains were worried about their latest prototype exploding. That brooding anger seemed pretty pointless when no one paid attention to it.

"What if I talk to them?" He asked, hope in his voice tainted by something akin to dread. "They'd understand that I want to see you, I know they would."

She frowned, unsure whether it was an offer to take up or not.

"You'd speak to them just to secure me some vacation time?" Maybe it would work, though she was old enough to make her own decisions her worry was that she was employed on the island. If she lost that then she wasn't quite sure where she'd stand. Not that they'd ever fire her, but with anger brewing as it was you never knew. "You know Scott is still pretty pissed with the whole vanishing act you pulled."

"Yeah?" Alan laughed slyly, his voice mixing with the increasing downpour of rain on the island. "I'm inviting you over Tin, I didn't invite Scott, or John for that matter, and I didn't agree to be taken home. It wasn't a vanishing act so much as a 'thank for coming, see you later' kinda thing. I just didn't hang around for the oncoming lecture and potential kidnapping."

She rolled her eyes, wishing she'd seen the look on Scott's face once he;d realized Alan had them bamboozled. John seemed relatively accepting of the whole thing, he'd been annoyed at first but he'd gotten over it after a few beers and some light Gordon humor. Scott though? Scott was wallowing in self pity and scheming on what he was going to do to Alan when they next met. He was a walking rant of 'woe is me', taking the Royal Shakespeare Company on at amateur dramatics.

"Are you going to speak to him?" Again, part of her would have liked to witness that.

"I know I said I'd speak to them but I was hoping he didn't count."

"You've got to apologize, you know that." She'd heard about the hangover and it had not sounded pretty, any brother willing to see Alan through that kind of humiliation was worth their weight in gold, potential kidnapper or not she thought that the kind of love that warranted was priceless.

"Yeah, I guess. It was pretty funny though." A rumble of thunder on her end mixed in with a chuckle of his dry familiar laughter.

"Alan!" She glared at the phone but smiled all the same, missing that 'devil may care' side of him. "I'll see what I can do about taking some time off. Where are you anyway?"

"I'm actually heading to New York, I'm not really sure what I'm wanting to do so I figured I needed inspiration."

"In New York?" She frowned, remembering the busy streets and hectic lives the people there lived, it wasn't somewhere she particularly liked. She wasn't entirely sure why but she imagined him stood somewhere bright and filled with sunshine, skin as warm as his smile as he intermittently slotted coins into the payphone and smiled down the line.

"No silly, I rang you. You inspire me."

She full on chocked with laughter, if she'd been drinking she would have spat it out. "You're turning hipster on me Allie, peace, love and rock and roll. I'm feeling a vibe of love."

"What!" He laughed along with her, the sound of another coin breaking the air for a second. "Just think about it, ok? A phone call isn't really the same as being face to face, and you know I'm not ready to come home. There are things on the island that I miss, and you have a vacation due, put that together and you've got a plane ticket to buy." He was beginning to sound smug, he knew he had her the moment she'd decided to accept the call.

"Talk to your brothers and then we'll talk."

"Ok..." He answered hesitantly. "And Scott?"

"Even Scott."

A comfortable silence passed between them, the sounds of the storm on Tracy Island mixed with the sound of a car passing wherever Alan was gave a calming ambiance.

"Is Fermat mad at me?"

She frowned, a tinge of guilt settling in her stomach as she realized she'd forgotten one of her best friends in the situation, too concerned with herself and when she'd get to see her best friend again. "I actually haven't seen him much recently," She admitted, rubbing her eyes sleepily and making a mental note to seek the guy out the following day, "he's been working with Brains on something. Haven't you spoken to him?"

"I've been an idiot Tin. I didn't think things through and then I was all caught up in myself and my ridiculous issues, I've really let you both down." He breathed out a long weary sigh. "I'll call him tomorrow, it'll be the first call I make… though without a phone it's kind of hard, but as soon as I find a payphone it'll be the first!"

"I'll hold you to it. And don't beat yourself up, neither of us blame you for wanting to be away from the island. I'm on your side Alan, I always will be."

"I really do miss you, Tin." He said quietly. "I'll make things right, I'll make my Dad and brothers proud, and when I do come back? It'll be for the right reasons."

"Alan…"

"Talk again soon, ok? Keep smiling for me."

"Alan?"

As the call went dead Tintin lay back on the bed, the uncertainty of how the situation between the young blonde and his family would end making her all the more nervous as to what the future would hold. None of them could stand anymore hurt, yet neither side would back down.

* * *

"D- d- father, if we can create a re- reverse magnetized pull we could cre- cre- make a shimmer type apparition. But the effect of the magnetic interference may ma- m- cause problems."

Nodding at his son, Hiram leant over his shoulder and looked at the computer screen he sat behind, eying the calculations. "I'm imp- press- pleased son, we can work with this."

The cloaking device was one step closer to reality. With ever growing public interest on the Thunderbirds it was well needed.

* * *

**Bug me enough and I'll make sure the next chapter is out quicker.  
I've just started a really good book so you need to distract me from it!**


	8. The Explanation

**Sorry for the delay, I still have assignments due before the end of the year and I got sucked in to the jubilee celebrations. ******

I was tempted to call this Chapter One as I feel it's where things start, don't get too excited though. It's mostly filler, that conversation you wanted with Jeff, Scott and John. And then there's Alan...  
**  
Oh Alan. *shakes head***

* * *

A few days previously Jeff had sent Scott and John to retrieve their youngest brother from the mainland, it hadn't taken much persuading to convince Scott, and then there was John who was more than willing to have a trip somewhere other than space. The guy had his head up in the stars so often that he was due some time in the real world, though after the excursion to retrieve his brother he'd more than likely be begging to go back to that big red tin can in the sky.

Since a young child Alan had questioned everything that had been asked of him, he'd dug his heels in and crossed his arms in defiance since he could toddle. Lucille had said he was curious, he wanted to know everything at once and disliked feeling like the baby of the family. She'd dismissed Jeff's fears as silly and complained that he was trying to mould Alan into someone he was not.

Jeff wondered what she'd think now, if she saw the man Alan had become would she still be the proud doting mother she had before? Would she question her youngest son's motives or would she be that unreserved barrier of love protecting him for all wrong?

He wondered whether he'd had a part to play in it or whether this was where the road had always led. He had five sons, was it selfish to presume that they'd all be a success?

For a while Jeff had sat in his office gazing out over the panorama of a sunset before him, occasionally glimpsing down at his desk and at that last photo which had been taken shortly before Lucille's death. Smiling faces of five children, a loving wife and an equally loving husband. They'd felt safe, warm in one another's arms and ready to take on the world around them. Despite what had happened Jeff loved that photo more than any other.

On the wall to his left portraits of each of his boys proudly hung, when the alert was sounded those portraits would lift and reveal the faces of the Thunderbirds. Four portraits for four sons, one forever missing. They were proud paintings, like soldiers ready to face battle the young men looking out were ready for orders and unquestioning of their commands. Once that alert sounded he knew he could rely on each one of them.

But what about Alan?

The next morning Jeff had flown to mainland to view a potential new premises for Tracy Industries, his mind distracted on other things as he found himself being guided through the many floors and corridors of a newly built skyscraper. His eyes flickered intermittently to his phone for any sign of what was going on with his sons, not just Scott and John but also the two who remained on the island. If a call came in they'd struggle to cope.

It was midmorning when the call finally came, Jeff had seen all he wanted of the building and was in a taxi making his way to a hotel. He'd had an headache which loomed on becoming a migraine and didn't want the hassle of flying back to the island until the next day, so with that decision in mind he'd grasped Gordon's philosophy of 'no news is good news'. Though he was thankful to see John's number flash on the screen.

"Report." Short and to the point if a bit sharp, he didn't have the energy to mess with pleasantries.

"Yeah, we found him. We're at a sleazy motel in Kansas dialing up the number of bottle of alcohol he's consumed." There was no hint of humor in his voice.

Alan couldn't hold liquor, they all knew that. He was twenty one, barely legal yet following his birthday they knew all too well that alcohol and Alan did not mix well.

"How much are we talking?"

"Biblical proportions." John sighed, a car sounded in the background leading Jeff to surmise that his middle son was standing outside the motel. "He's not conscious at the moment but Scott thinks he'll live, at least until he wakes up, then we'll pummel some sense into him."

"Hmm." Wary of the taxi driver listening into his end of the call Jeff was unsure of what to say, part of him wanted to rant and take his disappointment out on John but he knew that wouldn't have been fair. "I'm guessing you don't want to fly back today then?"

John gave a short bitter sounding laugh. "I can see your thinking; 'bung Alan on the plane before he realizes what's happening'. Nice idea but I need some sleep before even contemplating piloting or plotting, and Scott is so stressed that he's starting to go a tad crazy. It'll be tomorrow at the earliest, and that's dependant on us finding some coffee which doesn't taste like filtered cardboard."

"Right." He caught the eye of the taxi driver looking back at him in the rear view mirror, annoyed that people were suddenly so interested in their personal lives. Sure, being a billionaire secured a constant string of interest but Alan was causing more problems than he was aware of, he'd set dominos in motions which would effect them all.

Jeff's anger bubbled at the thought. "I can't say I'm happy about it but we can discuss matters tomorrow and see what damage control we can put in place. There will be consequences, don't you worry about that."

"Don't be too hard on him Dad, he's just had a setback and he's trying to find a way through it. It's a stupid way through it, don't get me wrong, but he's just lost…"

He grit his teeth, hands clenched around the phone and eyes shutting for a long tense moment. "He isn't lost John, he knows damn well what he's doing and how to get the biggest rise out of us. Alan wants attention, Alan wants approval, Alan wants the world to evolve around him!" He couldn't hold the words back, he no longer cared if the taxi driver heard. He had enough problems to cope without having to waste time reclaiming lost baggage.

Baggage. Did he really think of Alan like that? No. He was tired, angry, and upset with the situation. He was two Thunderbirds down and praying a call didn't come in. If a call came he wasn't sure how much sanity he'd have left to cope.

"Dad…"

"No John. Just bring him home. No excuses, ok?"

"Yes sir."

Finally checking into his hotel room and collapsing on the bed, Jeff had slept for twenty straight hours, waking up in confusion only to find that the bedside clock besides him was displaying the correct time. He'd lost the best part of the day to sleep but had regained much of the energy he'd felt drained from those last few weeks, weighing up those small positives helped.

He was slow to rise, taking his time over coffee which wasn't measured by the cup before wondering downstairs in search of a newspaper. He rang the real estate company to secure another viewing of the potential new building, next ringing an advisor and building surveyor and arranging them to view the space. He then stopped off at a café for a light meal, taking his time answering emails and enjoying the calm before the storm which awaited him back home.

For a few hours he put it out of his mind completely, thinking only of what he'd be doing if Alan didn't constantly feel the need to paper the skies with his dislike for everything which didn't go his way.

Eventually Jeff had made it to the small air field and onto his private jet, and after a few hours he was back on the island strolling towards his office. A cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper he'd picked up earlier that day in the other, the time had literally flown by.

In the air he'd thought about what he'd say to Alan, he'd played the conversation through in his mind multiple times yet he could never reach a conclusion with where to go with it. Alan was difficult, he always had been. He'd question everything and never took orders if he couldn't see the sense in them, if he'd made up his mind on something there was no changing it.

Jeff had passed Gordon in the kitchen, the auburn haired young man nodded a greeting but had quickly made excuses to disappear. Unlike Alan he knew how to take commands but that wasn't to say that he wasn't constantly equipped with a clever anecdote or witty retort. Seeing him bee lining towards the pool had given Jeff the impression that Gordon was very glad not to be the one on the receiving end of Jeff's wrath, not then at least.

Making himself comfortable, Jeff once again found himself gazing at the photo of their family, thoughts mixing themselves once more before he was finally brought from his reverie by a short cough. He was surprised to find Scott and John standing awkwardly in the doorway, both slightly white faced and looking tired and drained.

"Where is he then?" He asked, it was all too apparent that Alan wasn't hanging back in the shadows.

"I haven't got the foggiest." John was first to speak, edging into the room before sinking into one of the long couches that stood in front of Jeff's desk. He sighed loudly, running a hand over his eyes.

Scott followed him into the room, standing besides the couch and gazing out over the ocean before back over to his father. "We tried Dad, we really did. Alan wasn't ready to come home, he didn't even want to be found."

After all the mental preparation and countless conversations which Jeff had played through in his mind he was torn between overwhelming anger and a quiet sort of relief. It was putting off the inevitable though, sooner or later he'd need to speak to Alan.

"What do you mean he wasn't ready? I didn't send you to ask him questions or nanny him out of the mess he landed himself in, I sent you to bring him back."

"He ran away from us, literally ran away. I think that's as 'not ready' as you can get." Scott looked defeated, there was anger there before they'd left the island but on their return it had long since faded.

At that moment Jeff couldn't summon any sympathy. "For crying out loud, there are two of you. You're seriously telling me that you lost your younger brother?"

"We didn't lose him." John was clearly stressed, he fidgeted and kept looking to Scott for backup. "He made a run for it and we weren't fast enough."

"And what if we had caught up? What then?" Scott leant on the arm of the couch, fists clenching as his eyes flashed with renewed annoyance, this time directed at Jeff himself. "We can't force him to come home Dad, how well do you think that would have gone down? He knows we're worried about him and he did seem genuinely sorry for that, but he has some big ideas about finding out who he is."

"We flew over to Kansas, not an easy trip and if you'd seen the motel we had to stay in you'd agree that it wasn't a pleasant one either." John ground on the words. "If we could have got him onto that plane then believe me, we would have."

Jeff considered the situation, silently debating whether he himself should have gone. Maybe Gordon would have been a better choice, after all he did have more in common with Alan. But John and Scott were the voices of reason, their concern for their brother had powered their determination to bring him home. If they couldn't, whose to say he himself or Gordon could?

He opened the newspaper he'd picked up earlier that day, leafing through the pages until he finally found what he was looking for. Spinning the offending article round and circling it with a marker he nodded for his two eldest sons to look.

John stood, patting down his pants before following Scott who was already there, leaning on the desk and reading through the article. It was a section of the paper which was increasing in familiarity; Entertainment.

_Party For One, Tracy Style_

_Alan Tracy, the youngest son of billionaire and ex astronaut Jeff Tracy, was yesterday spotted at a gas station in Ponette, Kansas. Alan has recently been rumored to be traveling alone in the states after his graduation some weeks prior. _

_Sources suggest a feud in the family though these have as yet been unconfirmed. Previous news suggesting that Alan had dropped out of college have since been proven to be untrue, in fact twenty one year old Alan Tracy graduated with joint honors of the highest degree. _

_The attendee at the gas station the young Tracy stopped at said that he appeared somewhat tired and without a clear direction as to where he was heading. He did not, however, appear lost._

_"He bought a trunk full of alcohol and no food," Comments Ricky Stevens, the attendee. "I didn't recognize him at first but when he paid I saw the name on the card and I knew who he was alright… I asked if there were any parties in the area as my shift was due to end but he shook his head and left, if there was a party then he sure as hell wasn't in the mood for it!"_

_Ruth Tracy, mother of Jeff Tracy and grandmother to Alan and his four older brothers, lives in the old family home a few hours outside of Ponette. She has declined to comment but we are led to believe that Alan was heading in the opposite direction, away from her home._

_Alan Tracy is a relatively unknown member of the Tracy clan, having been kept away from the public eye for much of his life we are left trying to guess the reason behind his sudden appearance and the distance he seems to be holding from his family. _

_Will Alan disappear into obscurity once more, or does the youngest Tracy member have a story waiting to be heard?_

Scott looked up from the paper, John a few seconds behind him. Jeff just gazed back at them both, an all knowing look on his face.

"This kind of media attention causes a backlash, we all know that." He folded the paper before depositing it into the trash can besides the desk. "Yet Alan is walking head long into it."

"I don't think that was his intention," Scott defended, a look of confusion playing across his face, "Alan wouldn't seek out the media, they just have a habit of finding stories where there is none."

"Where there is none?" Jeff interjected, "So, there's no story behind why Alan ran away from home?"

"Sure there's a story, but he wouldn't share it."

John flopped back onto the sofa, eyes closing as he tried to ignore the ridiculous notion. Trouble found Alan, not the other way around.

* * *

He had never driven so much in his entire life, in Kansas the roads stretched out seemingly endlessly over a mixture of dry arid sand traps and field upon field of crops which stretched to the horizon and beyond.

Kansas to New York City was over a thousands miles, shorter than route sixty six yet a goliath of a journey for anyone with little driving experience under their belt. Yet Alan didn't hate the journey, he never grew tired of the road beneath him or the expanse of land held between each state he crossed. The summer bore down with a unforgiving heat yet with the wind blowing through the open window of his newest hire car he was unperturbed. Life went on.

His first thoughts of finding some guidance in what to do with his life came back when his brother's had tracked him down a week prior, before then all he'd felt was hurt and an empty shame of not being good enough. Trying to eradicate the emotions with alcohol had been neither wise nor effective yet the words his brother's had brought with them had made an impression.

If Alan wanted to do well in his life then he had to grow up, and to do so he had to step out of the footsteps he'd forever followed and make his own.

New York was an obvious choice, everyone went to New York and even if he couldn't find himself then maybe he could go the opposite way and try loosing whatever it was that made him a failure.

The vast distances spent on the road had given him time to ponder over what he could do, what he'd be good at. His strengths in engineering were useful if he wanted to work for a certain select rescue organization, but outside of that he'd have been pushed to find work without the relevant experience. Outside of engineering Alan knew a little of most things, but only a little.

He could read a map, he knew how to wire a plug, he could name over a hundred exotic birds. Not skills which an interviewer would find admiral or attractive, and not skills he could really expand on or form any interest out of.

With his whole life focused on one aim it was hard to even think of other interests he may have had, it wasn't until he'd reached Ohio that he even started to think outside of the glowing box of International Rescue. And even then it wasn't until Pennsylvania that he'd taken the idea seriously.

Upon arriving in New York Alan was shocked and somewhat upset to discover that the media literally trawled the city streets making him an incredibly easy catch, he'd had a hard time not getting into altercations with enthusiastic photographers shoving cameras up his nose every few minutes and yelling comments which made him shudder.

Whilst at college he had been protected by the media mostly thanks to his father's money and the college's approach to unauthorized personnel walking around campus, he'd never been truly independent and hadn't quite realized what 'going native' (as Gordon so fondly called it) would entail.

_"Alan Tracy! How are relations with your father at this time?"_  
_"Are you still on speaking terms?"_  
_"How does it feel to be branded a failure to your family?_  
_"No job offers from Tracy Enterprises, Alan?"_  
_"Living out of your father's pocket or striking out alone?"_  
_"Any parties tonight, Alan?"_

It was ridiculous, he never once replied yet they continued stalking him and writing detailed stories on these brief meetings in what seemed like every newspaper and magazine. It was amazing how much a reporter could get from an angry glare.

After a few days, still no confirmation of Tintin's much anticipated arrival, and still no promised awkward conversation with his brothers, Alan found himself walking into one of the largest media centers in New York. It felt somewhat like walking to the gallows but he was tired, and he didn't want to be driven out of the city by comments and articles anymore.

His father would have told him to stay away, '_ignore it and keep your head held high_', but Alan wasn't his father and the idea he'd had in Pennsylvania resurfaced with a new found attraction.

He didn't stay away but he did hold his head high, slapping a hand on the reception desk and smiling widely at the receptionist who sat behind, she'd been filing her nails but immediately took on the look of a fish out of water, gulping air and wide eyed as she looked the young man up and down.

"I'm not really sure how this goes," Alan admitted, "but I'm…

"I know who you are." She gaped, eyes twitching to the phone on the desk longingly.

He smiled, aware that there were suddenly a lot more people in the previously quiet reception yet trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach which made the room spin with a mix of excitement and fear. He could do it, he had talents which didn't need qualifications and one of them was charisma.

"Well I find myself being constantly followed by reporters and photographers and wondered whether there was any chance of speaking to someone in charge about it?"

She eyed the phone once more before picking it up and returning his gentle smile with a beam of her own. Maybe she was wondering how she could spin the scenario to get something positive out of it for herself. Maybe she'd sell her own story.

"Just bare with me a minute."

He watched lazily as she made a call, spinning away from him in her chair and occasionally shooting wide eyed looks his way as she spoke hurriedly into the receiver. He briefly wondered how amusing it would be if she mistook him for someone else, but he couldn't think of anyone who looked remotely alike, other than John of course.

A few minutes later he found himself sat in a white office in front of the editor's of News International's desk, another woman, teeth bleached an unnatural shade of white and hair peroxide blonde. If he hadn't had second thoughts before then he certainly did now.

* * *

**No he did not!**  
**Oh, yes he did.**


	9. The Interview

**Sorry for the ridicliously late update. I am busy like a bee.**  
**I have HUGE plans for this fic so I will update as and when possible, I love reviews so please don't just follow. It doesn't cost you a penny/dollar/euro and I will be forever grateful ;)  
**  
**Thanks again for being awesome.**

* * *

"So… you're willing to let us write an article?" The woman repeated for the third time, looking somewhat confused as she nursed a cup of coffee in her hands. It wasn't everyday that a celebrity literally strolled into her office and offered to give them the story they'd been chasing around for, she'd been in the job a long time and it had quite simply never happened..

Alan had first had the idea some long days ago and many, many miles before, he'd stopped for gas and had noticed his face staring out on the front page of a trashy magazine. He'd been aware that people were interested and constantly questioned what he was doing, but he hadn't know the extent of how far they'd be willing to go to find some kind of news story or snippet of gossip. It wasn't until he'd driven over three more state lines that the idea had finally sunk in and found foot holes in his mind.

_'If you can't beat them, join them_' was one of Virgil's old anecdotes, though Alan took the meaning more literally than perhaps his brother would have liked. His grandma would have said '_When life gives you lemons, make lemonade_", which again, she wouldn't see it from Alan's perspective but the words echoed in his mind and seemed somewhat fitting.

He'd tried running from the media, ignoring it, even hiding, but nothing worked, he just couldn't shake them. If you were in the public eye then asking for space was basically like lighting a neon sign above your head which shouted 'news worthy' in Technicolor adornment for the world to see.

_"When life gives you lemons, squirt life in the eyes._" That would have been Gordon's phrase.

"On the understanding that this is exclusive to you at News International, and as such I'd appreciate protection against the hordes of paps that seem to follow me wherever I go." He sighed, ticking off requirements in his mind and wondering just how anyone could get their teeth so white whilst powered by a seemingly endless source of coffee. "I'm tired, and I'm willing to give you what you want if you help me out."

The editor had introduced herself as Georgina Clark, a middle aged woman who seemed to have been made for the Entertainment sector of the paper - peroxide blonde, tall, thin, everything she knew a million women wanted to be, she literally modeled herself on the female celebrities she often wrote about and cherished every compliment which came her way.

She continued to stare at Alan for a few seconds longer, weighing up whether it was some kind of bizarre entrapment or if hidden cameras were waiting to catch the moment for the world's amusement. Attempting to get a story from the Tracy's had in the past proved impossible and more often than not had ended with some kind of law suit or court injunction filed against News International. They'd been wary about following the Alan Tracy story when he'd first appeared on the mainland, waiting to see whether there was a backlash upon the other papers, but soon it was made clear that either Jeff Tracy was unaware of his sons movements, or to the fact that Alan had struck out alone.

"What about your father?" She enquired, knowing that since the billionaire had ended his career with NASA he had not once agreed to be interviewed, and he also funded whatever protection the Tracy's received as a family. At least he had done…

Alan found himself unusually calm given the situation, he relaxed back into the armchair opposite the woman's desk in the bright white walled office, surprised as how easy it had been to get there and how everyone hung of his words. One wall was made completely of glass which looked out onto the corridor, since the young Tracy's arrival it had suddenly become very crowded. He'd smiled and offered a brief wave towards those prying eyes before turning his attention to the business at hand and trying to focus on what he wanted to achieve.

Georgina hadn't been sure what to expect, the news they'd already reported on him was short to say the least, ill-informed and little more than a filler, yet the man before her was bright, young, energetic and full of smiles. Newsworthy seemed too small a word to describe the potential.

"You're not interviewing my father, you're interviewing me." He shrugged easily, swatting away the question as unimportant. "I'm living out of my own pocket so he won't be involved with what I'm doing. If you don't want a story then I can go elsewhere, though I'd prefer that the papers had some ounce of truth in what they're writing… so I'm offering you this."

"One story?"

"That's the plan," He smiled devilishly, winking as a slight flush of color crossed his cheeks, "though admittedly I am looking for work… It's surprisingly difficult to find a career when it seems like the world and his wife are trailing for gossip. It seems that no one wants to hire anyone who brings that kind of attention."

"I hadn't ever thought about it in that way before," Georgina pulled out her notebook and a pen, scribbling down some quick notes before looking up again and finding her Dictaphone before pressing record. "I presumed you'd work for your father? Hasn't that been the route your brother's have taken?"

"Yeah, they went straight from college into work with Tracy Enterprises, but I'm not my brothers. I'm not really sure what I want to do anymore. If you'd asked me a month ago I would have said 'work for my dad', but now? I have no idea." Alan eyed the notes she made. "Do I get to read the story before it goes to press? Every time I pick up a newspaper I'm reading about how I'm coping with my apparent mental breakdown, which is somewhat insulting to say the least. It would be good to get some kind of warning before I pick up more labels."

"Well if you don't like something, tell me and we can mould it." She smiled warmly, you never knew what to expect when interviewing known figures, some were foul but so far Alan seemed like a good honest guy looking for a way out… maybe he'd slip up. "What made you change your mind about working for Tracy Enterprises?"

"Actually it was my dad, he said that I should go out and find my place in the world. I don't think he meant it quite so literally as he wasn't too happy when I left home, but he was right. I have to find some way of expressing who I am as a person instead of becoming a shadows to my brothers. That's pretty much why I'm in the states."

"You've been traveling a fair bit haven't you?" She tapped the pen between her fingers, thinking through the stories that she'd read in rival papers and the stories they themselves had written. "Is that through lack of direction or was it planned?"

He chuckled dryly, remembering the quantities of alcohol he'd drank when John and Scott had found him. "I wanted to try and get some kind of inspiration as to what I should do, some of that inspiration involved alcohol and some bad decisions but my brothers came over and got me back on the road again. Don't drink on a messed up mind, alcohol does not fuel coherent thoughts!"

"Oh I know the feeling." She'd been to college, she'd been to office parties, she'd been to award after parties where alcohol was pretty much prescribed. She knew the feeing alright. "Some of the papers have been saying that things between you and your father are somewhat strained, how is your relationship? Since the death of your mother the world has seen little of you so it seems only natural for the sudden curiosity in your reappearance into the world."

Alan considered her words, unable to stop his thoughts flicking back to the awful day he'd lost his Mom, it was automatic and even years on brought a twinge of pain to his chest. Shaking the feeling off he decided to be honest, he didn't want to be caught up in having to remember lies if questioned later on. One thing Alan was not was a liar.

"I haven't spoken to my father since I left the island, but that's all on me. I've needed time to think things through and as I'm sure everyone feels from time to time, I needed a break and to avoid some issues for a while." He looked out behind her to the wide sash windows which looked onto a skyline of office blocks, skyscrapers and an expanse of blue sky. "We're chalk and cheese, but we're family… to answer all those questions about why I left Tracy Island, then yes, I left because of an argument and I was drifting around for a while because I wasn't sure what to do…"

Georgina smiled sympathetically and slowly nodded. "Do you have a better idea now?"

He laughed shortly. "Not at all, but please, if anyone wants to offer me a job then let me know where to send the CV!"

* * *

In a way things had begun to return to that strange type of normal they'd become familiar with whilst Alan had been away at college, the usual routine of the day had been running as per usual if somewhat quieter around their father.

Scott wasn't quite aware of what the man was feeling, he was the type to brood and skulk which didn't give much away other than the fact he was upset. They were all worried about breaching the topic so avoided it, not sure whether it was for the best.

A part of Scott had been relieved when a call had been made for International Rescue to assist with a spreading forest fire in outback Australia, he was relieved that he had something to put his mind to and could work as a team which had finally gotten them all talking properly again. As much as he loved Alan, the subject was getting tired.

The rescue itself had been a simple job, a relay between the 'birds carrying water straight from the sea across the stretching orange hue of outback to where it was needed most. Working with the military and other rescue services had gone smoother than expected and the issue was resolved with ease. If only all rescues were that easy.

He had a vague idea as to what the next call out would be; an oil tanker had run aground off the coast of Italy and although the cargo of oil had not yet leaked there was every chance it could. Tied together with a volcano which had spent the last few weeks throwing out fumes, it was somewhat of a worried waiting game between which would go first.

A waiting game which currently had a large Ohana cooked lunch on the table of which the family surrounded, Fermat already digging in whilst Brains had yet to make an appearance. John had gone back up to Five the day before but the rest of them made up the numbers.

Jeff sat at the head of the table with a paper spread out in front of him balanced in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Thing is," Gordon was saying, filling his plate and mouth at the same time, "I'm due some time off anyway, and tickets like that are gold dust so if you look at it from a 'what-are-the-chances' view point, it's too good an opportunity to let pass by. The laws of everything good in the world are sending a pretty clear message."

Virgil laughed dryly, he was sat opposite the auburn haired swimmer and besides the dark haired Scott who rolled his eyes. "We're all due time off, we always are. How many events have I missed because a rescue has come in or I'm up in Five?"

"We still get vacation time." Gordon eyed Tintin as she strolled in to take her place at the table besides their father, not wanting to rouse his father's attention he looked from the young woman and back to Virgil meaningfully. "All of us. And we should be able to do whatever we want."

Scott frowned, working back in his mind over the last six months. "Isn't the issue here the fact that you've already had a vacation? I seem to remember you vanishing for two weeks a couple of months back, what was it…"

"Surfing in Hawaii." Virgil finished helpfully, pointing a fork at Gordon. "And before that you were in Vegas for three weeks building a reputation for yourself."

Tintin giggled, coughing on her drink. "Expensive vacation from what I heard."

Gordon looked genuinely hurt, a tad embarrassed, and somewhat as though he'd been caught out. "Yeah… well that didn't count, vacations are meant to be relaxing and that place is anything but. I should get extra leave for being under stress… I could have health issues."

"Mental health issues."

"Very true, big brother." Grinned Virgil, playfully punching Scott's shoulder. "Though from a medical stand point I'd say that Gordon's mental health issues stem back far beyond Vegas, perhaps to the time he was dropped on his head as a baby."

"Ha de ha. Very funny, you're ganging up on me." He scooped a few spoonfuls of potato salad onto his already full plate, downing a glass of water before refilling and downing another. "This is the Olympics I'm talking about, why the hell are you trying to talk me out of this?"

"Son." Jeff cut in, eyes looking over the newspaper which he rustled as he turned to a different section. "If things are quiet on the rescue front you can go, but if we need you back quickly you'll have to ask Lady P to pick you up."

Gordon gave a small 'whoop' and childishly stuck his tongue out at his brothers before grinning madly at Tintin who just shook her head. "Aw Dad! I knew someone in this family loved me. I'll get to see some of the guys I was with when I won gold, plus Olympic sized pools and chicks in their wet…"

"Gordon. Inappropriate."

"You didn't know what I was going to say."

"Oh, I think he did." Virgil winked. "When it comes to you there's not much depth."

Scott laughed but was interrupted by his phone vibrating through his pocket, the A-Team theme tune ringing out.

"Better take this." He didn't recognize the called ID so stood up to take the call, not many people had his number so it could have been important.

"Hey! Scott. Buddy… how are things?"

Scott gripped the phone tightly, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from the table the family had been sat round having dinner at. His pleasant mood taking a nose dive.

"Alan. This is a surprise."

He saw his father's eyes following him over the paper as he hurried away, feeling thoroughly awkward at the sad look in the mans eyes and how he knew there was probably no way he could get Alan to speak to him.

"You know me, full of surprises." There was a tense laugh followed by a long sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? I'm really sorry for leaving you and John like that but I'm not ready to come back, I don't want to and if you think about it I really don't need to. I should have just stood my ground and told you, but I was afraid you'd take me back whatever I said or did.  
You really helped me out when I made an idiot of myself, you were there for me and I feel like I threw it in your face, and I know I should have called sooner but I was afraid of what you'd say… But I do love you, and I do really miss you, we never seem to speak anymore so it often feels a bit strained when we do… you know?"

Alan was mostly babbling, pausing intermittently as he rambled to a stop. Scott was a lot older than the kid, he could remember him as a baby in their mother's arms, as a toddler crying after getting a scraped knee, and as a moody teenager angry at the world. He was twenty one now, twenty one.

"Can you please come back home, Al? We can't sort anything out over a phone line, you know that."

"I can't sort anything with Dad out over a phone line, but I was hoping me and you could patch things up… is John home?"

"He's got his head stuck in the stars." Scott muttered. "You need to speak to Dad at some point, he might not say it but he misses you as much as the rest of us."

Looking back over to the table Scott was surprised to see the man in question still watching, as was Gordon who raised a quizzical brow expectantly. Scott turned away again as Alan continued.

"Do you forgive me for running off on you?"

"Yeah, sure I do." Well, weighing between mostly and not really, the kid had abandoned both him and John in the middle of nowhere. Then again he had left the car so they technically weren't abandoned. "But…"

"I'll speak to you soon Scotty. Love you, and sorry if you get really mad with me as of tomorrow."

Alan hung up leaving Scott thoroughly confused and wondering just what he'd gained from the conversation. The kid was like a mini tornado, he couldn't keep still and whenever they spoke Scott had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which he could never fully explain.

He glared at his phone as though it were the offending emotion before turning back to the table and looking to Tintin.

"Where did you say he was?"

"Somewhere in New York." She muttered warily, frowning at the eldest Tracy son. "Why?"

"He apologized."

"For what?" Gordon ask warily, stopping his food shoveling for a moment.

"Incase we get mad at him, '_as of tomorrow'_"

Virgil sighed, shaking his head whilst buttering some bread, sarcasm dripping off his words. "Well that's something to look forward to. Baby brother's really are the best."


	10. The Calm

**Your reviews made me smile, you'll hate me for not including Jeff's reaction but it's coming! There has to be a bit of calm before the storm and I think we all know which Tracy that's best suited to. **

**hypersreak said it perfectly; "better to ask forgiveness then permission"  
Maybe that's Alan's thinking, though he's a bit of a mess at the moment so who knows what he'll do. The kid's a magnet for trouble (or so these countless Alan whump fics keep telling me)**

**Anyway, thanks again for the amazing reviews, I love your reactions and it keeps me pushing forward with** **_'the dastardly plan_'...**

**Oh Alan, my little tornado in a teacup.**

* * *

The few weeks prior had seemed something of a blur, a mismatch kaleidoscope of memories no more than pins on a map marking the progress of his travels. His internal conflict and personal journey still existed, the extent of which he chose to ignore.

Alan was fairly happy with the rough draft of the story which had been written about him, his words were for what seemed like the first time his own, and although he hadn't wanted to mention his father or the problems they'd been having he had decided that honesty was an approach best taken. If people wanted to think badly of him then at least they'd have an honest structure to base their opinions, not hearsay and backhanded comments from other papers.

Back home he'd always felt as though his words had never made an impact, the amount of times he'd been called into his father's office and given a dressing down were countless, yet the amount of times his father had listened? It was a hands down zero.

He understood that with four elder brothers separated by mere years it would be difficult to be heard above the ongoing rivalries, jokes, and babbling interests which filled conversations. Alan's news was old news to brothers who'd already experienced the same achievements years prior, his stories were shadows against those of daring rescues and sonic jets.

The constant frustration of not just being left behind but feeling undervalued and somewhat forgotten had sparked those first thoughts of media attention, concreting his words in newsprint to be read again and again. His father may have made one bold step for man, but he, Alan Tracy, had planted the first Tracy footprint on the media world.

His own words were not just printed in ink a million times over, screaming to be read as much as Alan felt the need to be heard and understood, but he had also gained an achievement that could not be compared in any way to those of his brothers.

The editor, Georgina, had arranged security and a chauffeur to take Alan back to the hotel he'd been staying at, she'd promised a copy of the paper to be sent first thing the next morning and had left her personal contact number in case of problems. Alan also had the number of the security firm hired by the paper to look after him whilst he was in New York, so if he wanted to leave the quiet haven of the hotel he wouldn't have to deal with an overdose of flashing cameras or nosy reporters after a secondary scoop. There were ways and means around it.

He'd had signed a four month exclusivity deal, even if he wanted to he was thenceforth barred from speaking to journalists outside of News International. As he'd gone through the contract that had been written up between them he'd come to the conclusion that one paper was better anyway, he wouldn't have to worry about his words being scrambled across networks or recalling what he'd said to each of them.

Maybe the prospect of being interviewed, going against his families' unspoken wishes and/or coming public about his life for the first time should have sent spine chilling shudders through his mind at the mere thought, but it didn't. If anything, since leaving the newspaper's office he'd felt a weight lift from heavy shoulders and the air lighter with each breath he took. Perhaps it was the calm before the storm, or perhaps he was making footprints which were completely his own.

When the morning came there was indeed a newspaper left outside of his hotel room neatly folded and awaiting inspection. Alan had to admit, the camera liked him and apparently so did the journalist who had written the article. At that moment no one was pulling him down, he was happy to wave away the worry of a disappointing read he'd have to explain if forced back home.

He'd been honest to the point of still being kind, avoiding potholes of anger or that black hole of despair he'd left at the motel along with a gas station of alcohol. He'd been truthful to those mistakes which had led him to New York, to those which had led him to that final argument with his father and the unauthorized take off from Tracy Island.

It hurt to read but it was the truth. Alan Tracy uncovered, there for the world to see. If they still wanted to judge him then at least they had honest words, not hearsay and the un-ended silence from a family that neither confirmed nor denied the pain.

* * *

The volcano in Italy had finally erupted and had cut through the worry of what Alan's future apology was for. The call had come in the early hours of the morning, dragging the islanders from their sleep in a groggy haze that was all too quickly erased by the shrill siren of International Rescue.

Volcano's couldn't be stopped, they were a force of nature that had no off-button meaning such rescues were just that; rescues. Dowsing water on top of a volcano would have as much of an effect as buying Lady P a green sweater. The aim of the mission was to rescue and transport people in the surrounding areas moving them to safer ground.

Thank fully there had been a warning issued some weeks previous to the impending eruption, many families had heeded those warnings and got the hell out of there. But as ever, some people just didn't listen.

Scott flew Thunderbird Two, Gordon co-piloting whilst Virgil ran diagnostics of the effected areas whilst relaying information and details with John up on Five. Their father was running Command & Control back on the island assisted by Brains, between them they spoke to rescue teams and local services already at the disaster zone and prepared them for the Thunderbirds approach and participation. It was a plan they worked like clockwork, so used to each others role that there was no room for panic or uncertainty.

The skills the ground crews sought were negotiators, imploring stubborn home owners to let go of their prized possessions and accept the inevitable; either they lost the items of they lost their lives.

Once landed the main worry was the giant ash cloud that had enveloped the area for miles around, threatening to choke Thunderbird Two's engines and blind the rescuers efforts of seeking out those hanging behind.

"Hey, Brains?" Gordon spoke into the microphone on his helmet, watching his suit turn a silver blue to a dusty grey in seconds. He head off with Scott and a couple of local rescue teams into the main part of the town, Virgil went the opposite direction with another team. They're landed as close as possible but it was still a half hour walk to the areas the teams wanted to check.

"Go a-ah-ahead Gordon." Brain's voice was crackling across the airwaves, not a good sign but so far the equipment was coping.

"Have you thought about inventing some kind of massive fan?" Gordon was serious but he caught Scott's short headshake a few paces ahead of him, he'd thought about it before at similar rescues but hadn't broached the idea until now. After a rescue he tended to put it behind him and worry more about getting clean than his own amazing future inventions. "It could blow the ash cloud away, at least until the town was cleared of civilians. It might also clear the stench of rotten eggs the sulphur gives off."

"Gordon, mind on the job." Jeff's voice broke through what threatened to become a ramble, as short as ever when manning command and control. Easily swatting his second youngest's question away without a hint of consideration.

"I'm serious. Someone remind me to bring it up when we're home, you'll thank me next time a volcano decides to throw an Alan." He stumbled across a small paved area filled with grey pot plants and rusty garden chairs, following the three local rescuers and Scott ahead of him as they cut across ash blackened lawns and further into the darkness the cloud brought.

There was a few minutes silence as they checked the small homes and apartments they passed, calling out to those who may have been trapped of simply hanging behind. Clearing a street they headed on to the next, thermal imaging software proving useless as the heat of the cloud only intensified.

John's voice crackled through the radio. "Throw an Alan?"

"Lots of smoke but no fire?" Scott guessed, separating from Gordon as they both went in opposite directions to once again check buildings.

"I was thinking more of the fact that he likes to make a mountain out of a molehill, but I guess both comparisons work. We're all clear over here, can't see anyone around. Scott?"

"We're clear… again. We're going to start heading further out opposed to in, I can't imagine anyone would hang around too long with the heat as it is."

"If you go any further you're risking losing the comm links," There was some beeping on John's end as the computer up on Five supplied a constant stream of data. "plus the heat's only going to increase so you won't want to be in there too long."

Jeff murmured in agreement. "Head back out, suggested distance of one hundred meters increasing in area. Confirm with the other teams, they have a better idea of the area and will know which are likely to have residents still holding back."

Scott relayed the suggestion to the three rescuers they were guided by, all of whom were happy with the decision but continued to check the houses they'd missed as they began heading away from the centre of the dust cloud and the direction of the volcano.

"Virg, you there?"

"Reading you loud and clear Scott."

"Your line has been quiet. Progress report."

"Yeah, I'm still here. We picked up an older lady in one of the first houses we checked, said her neighbors headed out last week but she didn't want to leave her house incase kids broke in. She's not too fused about the volcano. One of the local team members is just walking her out with an oxygen pack but we're continuing to circuit the residential area."

"H-how did you g-g-get her to leave?" Brains asked, a hint of humor lacing his words.

"One of the team told her that there was a soup kitchen at the rescue camp where they wanted to take her, said that they were looking for volunteers. Apparently she was quite taken with the idea."

"So, would you say that she did a Gordon?" Scott smirked, they could hear it in his voice as he bumped through another house, vision limited but confirming another empty building. "Clear."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Full of opinions but not much depth." Jeff came back, quick as a whip. "Keep on task boys, let's not get distracted."

"I resent that!"

"Gordon."

"Sorry dad. We're all clear here… again. Are we late to the rescue or something? Looks like most of the work's already been done."

"The camps that the civilians have been taken to have a basic idea of numbers but not everyone went to a camp, some went to friends, family and/or elsewhere, and then there are the possible missing." John was mainly keeping an eye on the shifting weather patterns, movement of the ash cloud and the status of the volcano, but he also shared the information which Jeff and Brains were sifting through.

Jeff sighed. "We were called in for extra numbers to speed up the search, those who have remained in their homes have been proving hard to shift. You're there to remain visible and to help where needed."

"F-from the spread of the a-a-smoke I would pr-predict a short stay, the a-a-ash c-cloud is moving too f-fast. Thunderbird Two will be gr-grounded if you stay t-too long."

"I'm agreeing with Brains." John crackled through, the comm link was becoming ever more fragile. "Unless you plan on losing your 'bird you've only got about half an hour stability before risking overheating the engines."

"Marked." Gordon muttered, beeping the time into his watch as a countdown.

"Marked. Confirmed Scott.

"Ditto." Virgil quipped, "We're heading back that way anyway, just a couple more streets to check and we'll be pulling the teams in."

Irritatingly, or perhaps luckily, only one other person was found before they wrapped up the mission and headed out again. A middle aged man had hung back with his dog in the worry that he would be forced to leave it behind, the shaggy animal seemed happier than the man to be leaving the area with the promise of a good wash an a belly of food back at one of the camps. They were set up in tents running on bottled water and tinned produce, a dog walking around was the least of their worries.

John signed off whilst Gordon, Virgil and Scott headed back to the island for the debrief. Jeff and Brains had run through a few diagnostics of not just Thunderbird Two but the radio interference and the effects the ash could have had on the equipment. John had signed off after Brains had left the conversation and headed off towards one of the silos with high spirits of trialing some new equipment.

After the last few hours of constant chatter over the radio feed it was suddenly very quiet, only the sounds of the space station's computer and hum of a soft engine keeping him company. Looking out across the stars it was hard to imagine the destruction the volcano could cause, it was a good job they were well prepared and knew how to react in such circumstances... Even if some chose to ignore the warnings and remain behind.

Although the rescue was a reasonably short one the time to and from Italy coupled with the slow search of buildings had eaten away at the night, Tracy Island would be serving a very late breakfast to the returning rescuers.

John set the monitors in front of him to automated and headed off in search of a hot drink before he could catch some shut eye, his feet padding through the insulated short corridor to the small kitchen area. He grabbed a mug and poured himself a tea, thankful to Lady P for introducing his favorite brew to him and reminding himself to restock when he got back home.

He made his way back along the corridor, veering through a door to the left and into the cramped bedroom he called his own. There was one other bedroom on the space station which he'd come to refer to as 'the guest room' which was currently unoccupied.

Whilst he sipped his tea he flicked open the small computer by the bedside and started his usual routine of checking world events and news, flicking through a few websites he had bookmarked and scrolling through stories that interested him.

Huh.

London's build up to the Olympics was looking interesting, the opening ceremonies seemed to have a herd of cattle and sheep involved. Gordon would love that. Apparently he had tickets which was impressive in itself, though since winning his gold medal he had kept in touch with team mates and athlete's he'd met during the course of the games four years prior.

John rolled his eyes, scrolling down to read the coverage of the volcano in Italy. The photos were hazy but as ever the media had caught onto International Rescue's involvement and had herded to the scene, snapping photos of Thunderbird Two and the uniformed figures of Scott, Gordon and Virgil.

He noted that he'd need to bring the problem up with Jeff again, something he'd mentioned on a dozen occasions after their photos had ended up on newspapers and similar websites. Sure, visors hid the operative's faces, but it only took one lucky snapshot to steal the identities of the entire operation. It was down to Brains to perfect the invention that had kept him working twelve hour days for the last two years.

John continued sipping at his tea, blowing the hot liquid to cool it down as he flicked through to the bottom of the page where stories of the latest celebrity scandals usually stood. Of all the things he'd expected to find his youngest brother's face smiling out at him was at the bottom of the list.

His first reaction was to stare at the image for a few long moments wondering how it had happened, eyes sweeping over the surrounding stories of divorces, drug busts and the latest diet to sweep the nation. Seeing Alan's face alongside them was surreal.

He was smiling, a smile that John couldn't recall seeing for a long time. The spark in his brother's eyes was held back though, instead there was something quite sad about it that the astronaut couldn't quite place.

Alan was an energetic sociable guy, he'd landed himself in trouble throughout school but also kept top of the leader board for track. As his education had progressed so had his grades and by the time he'd graduated college, some long weeks prior, he'd got the highest accomplishment possible.

That was something which John had learnt from Fermat, a source who should never have been made to deliver such news. It should have been Alan telling him, his homecoming barbeque should have been one of celebration of achievement. The smiles should have been proud and reflected on each one of their faces.

John had seen Alan happy so many times before, the memories which stood above the rest were those when all the brothers were home and work was not a priority. They'd hang out poolside for hours or sit as a group arguing over what movie to watch, they'd squabbled over the recipe that one time they'd baked Grandma's birthday cake, the nickname 'polar bear' easily re-found the youngest blonde after Gordon had emptied the remaining contents of a bag of flour upon his head.

The photo staring out of the computer screen didn't show a smile of that level of happiness, it reflected something far more disturbing sending a hollow feeling into the pit of John's stomach. The smile was one which had occasionally flickered on Alan's face when he'd argued with his father and knew he was right, it was a smile of victory. A different kind of achievement with the hint of all-knowing tainting it into something dark.

John didn't need to read the story to know that it was Alan who had approached the media, he didn't need to hear the apology he'd voiced to Scott on the phone the day before. Whatever Alan thought he was doing was planned.

The elder blonde had only planned to skim through the news, catch up with stories and maybe read a few longer articles. Instead he found himself sat for over an hour reading and re-reading his brother's story, staring at the few photos which accompanied it and trying to find some logic behind what Alan expected to achieve.

He loved that kid, but understand him? No.

* * *

Tintin and Fermat were not allowed in command and control during rescues, it was an unspoken rule that none but Alan had ever tested. Instead they'd found themselves sat on one of the long expanses of beach staring out at the morning sun which slowly made it's way into the blue sky above.

When Alan was around the three of them were the best of friends, they'd grown up knowing the unreliability of the family around them which connected the young trio, sharing that one secret no one outside of the island could ever know. When Alan was away though, conversation was suddenly hard to come by and an awkwardness settled between the pair.

They both had worries, from Tintin's concern over Alan's wellbeing and whether she'd be able to work up the courage to ask for time away from the island to Fermat's workload with his father. Although younger than Alan Fermat had graduated a year before him, he was continuing to study towards a Masters degree from the island but also worked with his father in the labs and on the technical side of the Thunderbird machines.

He worried about Alan, but from his stand point he didn't think anything short of a freight train would stop whatever he was doing. Fermat had seen Alan at his best and at his worse, the guy spoke his mind and disliked the distance he'd increasingly felt from his family.

Tintin could see that to, but unlike Fermat who tried to provide small hints and guidance in the families' direction, she tried to slot herself in to the empty spaces they left in their wake. She desperately wanted Alan to be happy and in doing so wanting herself to be a part of that, something Alan still seemed so blindly unaware of.

So they sat side by side, both mulling over their own concerns whilst night became day and the temperature on the island slowly rose. It was around eight in the morning when Lady P arrived with Parker.

Tintin and Fermat made their way to the jetty where the bright pink car moored.

"Hey Lady P!" Tintin greeted her with a brief embrace followed by a kiss on each cheek, so used to the greeting that it had become second nature to the young woman. "The guys are currently working, a volcano in Italy erupted."

Penelope greeted Fermat who wheezed on an asthma inhaler, waving briefly and grinning at Parker. "You d-don't have lan-landing clearance. The w-warden will have you to-towed!"

"I'll take my chances Master Hackenbacker." Parker smirked, following the two women who headed towards the house.

"I've spoken to John," Penelope was saying, making her way through the sandy path with a surprising ease considering the shoes she had on. "I thought it would be best to be here for when your father finished the debriefing… before he hears the news from another source."

Tintin frowned, briefly wondering why John had contacted Lady P before anyone else. It sounded important. "What news?" She knew without asking though, it had to involve Alan. If mediating with Mr. Tracy was needed then Lady P was the one to do it.

"I-If you don't mi-mind me asking," Fermat stuttered, pushing his glasses up his nose as he stumbled along, "Isn't J-John going to be in the d-de-de- roundup? Won't he h-have supplied back-backup data f-from Five?"

Parker nodded, quickly moving ahead as they climbed the steps to the front of the house. Running to get the door for Lady P before she reached it.

"Thank you Parker." Penelope smiled as they made it into the shaded building, she turned to the younger pair. "He wanted your father to hear it from me, I don't think he wanted to be the one Jeff took his frustration out on."

"It's Alan, isn't it?" Tintin blurted. If there'd been an accident Jeff would have been contacted immediately, the fact that John had gone out of his way to ask Lady P to deliver the news coupled with the fact that Lady P had agreed spoke of something far more sinister. "What's he done?"

Fermat frowned. "H-how do you kn-know that he's do-do-partaken in anything?"

"When he rang Scott yesterday he apologized for today."

"Oh…"

"Oh indeed." Penelope smile sadly, walking over to one of the large couches in the open plan lounge and sitting. "Some tea, Parker?"


	11. The Effect

**I loved the reviews, 61 of you are currently following this fic so I hope it doesn't disappoint. I'm a bit unsure with this chapter but it is leading to a good Alan whumping, though who knows when, how and where it'll happen...**

**Muha. I totally do.**

**Keep reviewing and I'll try and get a quicker update out, this British summer has driven me indoors (endless rain).  
Again, I can confirm that Alan whumping will occur at some point during this fic, and I don't mean emotional whumping as that's pretty much constant!  
**

* * *

Jeff was tired and urgently in need of coffee, yet he still pushed through the debriefing with his boys and made sure that Thunderbird two had a full diagnostic check carried out on the twin engines and that the equipment which they'd taken was recorded and logged for use.

Gordon would forever complain that such tasks could wait yet Jeff was a man of action and knew that if another call came in - say, that capsized oil rig which was still causing problems on the same Italian coast line - International Rescue would be called upon to act quickly. Engine problems were easier to deal with on dry land opposed to when they were flying across land or ocean.

Once the diagnostics were done, Scott, Gordon and Virgil made their way to Jeff's office and sat in various postures of exhaustion across the room. Scott was trying to look professional yet he eyed Jeff's coffee with longing as the smell of breakfast wafted up from the kitchen to their noses. The sooner the debriefing was over with the sooner they could eat and then catch some shut eye. John had logged off some time ago as Thunderbird two was heading back to the island, it was one of the few times in which they envied the few luxuries afforded by being up on Five.

"Alright boys, breakfast and then bed." Jeff smiled, pleased with the ease of the callout. "Good job, we may not have been needed as much as previously thought but our presence alone calms minds and shows a jointed relief effort."

Gordon murmured something as he passed on the way out, Scott nodded and thanked his brother's and father in his general way whilst Virgil just headed out nodding shortly as he passed.

That left Jeff, nursing his much needed coffee and about to follow down to where he knew a delicious and much needed breakfast would be waiting, instead he found himself gazing at the doorway where the only woman he knew to ever wear so much pink at one time stood.

"Penny! I didn't know you were here, you should have called." He rose from the chair behind the desk and in a few long strides reached the woman in pink and exchanged her all too familiar welcome of a kiss on each cheek. "Please, come in. Can we offer you breakfast? The boys have just headed done but if we're quick we may find that they've left us a few scraps."

Penny entered the office and headed to the panoramic window which looked out across the rainforest and over the vast ocean beyond. The sun was high in the sky and everything was bathed in light making the island look like paradise. Tall palm trees dotted the shore line, one beach a particular favorite of Alan's which brought her round to the reason as to why she'd arrived.

"No breakfast Jeff, but thank you for the offer. I would have called but you were on a rescue and I know how much you hate to be interrupted." She smiled, squeezing his hand shortly as he came to join her at the outlook. "Fermat and Tintin welcomed both myself and Parker to the island, and as you are now finished with your debriefing I can tell you the reason as to why I'm here."

"Oh. Business?" The revelation sent him back behind his desk where he once again sat, sipping the cup of coffee before he flicked through the computer screen which shone up through the desk itself, a glass touch screen his access to the system, state of the art as everything on Tracy Island was. "I've been watching the markets for a shift in trends but considering the world economy things have been holding reasonably well, the company is trading well and we've recently purchased a new building to expand into. Given the dip in public sector spending I'd say that we were doing pretty well."

He flicked through his emails, skimming through the details and accessing which needed to be replied to and which he could forward or ignore, finally his eyes lifted back up to the woman who now stood in front of the desk.

She wasn't entirely sure how to voice the words. "It's about Alan, I know I've spoken to you about this previously but things have changed. I felt best that you hear it from me."

Jeff frowned, unsure what could have possibly changed since they'd last heard from his youngest. The kid had run away from home, got blind drunk and driven cross half the states. What more could he do? He came to the same conclusion as Tintin had; if anything bad had happened then he would have been alerted directly rather than through Penny herself.

"What is it?" He sighed, lounging back in the chair with a sudden weight of exhaustion his youngest so often seemed to bring. "Do I need to send someone out again or is this, as Gordon would so finely put it, Alan doing 'an Alan'? I'm tired and haven't got nearly enough caffeine in my system to deal with idiocy."

She sat on the small couch, weighing her words. "I can get you some more coffee if you like? Alan is in good health, that's not a worry."

"What is it Penny? If it was injury I'd have heard by now so all I can assume is that he's done something foolish… again, hence your reluctance to tell me. And by the fact that you say you'd feel it was better if the news was broken by you I'll assume that it's most probably going to be something incredibly stupid."

"Jeff, dear," she paused again, waiting for whatever emotion she expected to come from the friend before her, "he's in one of the papers."

"What do you mean 'in one of the papers'? In what sense?" Alan seemed to be constantly in the news, at least those last few weeks. He was something of an interest to the news hungry media, a previously near invisible Tracy appearing from what seemed like nowhere. "Is it alcohol fueled?" Jeff found himself growling the words, grinding them out with anger as he felt himself trying to analyze the situation and what they could do to limit the damage. "After his twenty first I explicitly told him… Damn it! Are there photos? Please tell me there's not photos?"

"Jeff, honey, he approached the media himself. Alan sold a story to News International explaining his actions since he graduated from college, there are images but I promise you - what Alan has said are his own words and most definitely did not require alcohol to come out. I have the article here," she produced the newspaper from her Chanel pink clutch bag, unfolding it and holding it out, "but you need to read it with an open mind. Alan had been trying to say this to you for years, it's wrong of him to approach the media but you need to hear it for what it is. Ok? You can be mad later, for now just read Alan's own words and try to figure out what he's trying to say to _you_. Yes?"

She leant across the desk, newspaper still in her hand as she offered it for him to take. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it and immediately tutting as the image of his son stared out from the front cover. Penny's gaze turned to a low level glare which he leant away from, flicking through the paper to the article in question.  
**_  
ALAN TRACY - UNMASKED_**

Jeff skimmed through the waffle from whoever had sat in the interview with Alan, it was mostly self-praise of getting the exclusive scoop and a few mentions of prior suggestions as to why Alan had been traveling. Still feeling Penny's glare boring into him Jeff read on without comment. Alan's words were definitely his own.

_**After graduating from college I headed back home, it was a great feeling to know that all my family would be there and that we****'****d be celebrating the achievement the graduation brought.**_

_**I don****'****t want to bore you with too many details but I think it****'****s important to explain what life is like as a Tracy, for my brother****'****s and father at least - It plays into why I****'****m in the states. **_

_**Basically my family spends a lot of time at work, my brothers are all working for my father and he****'****s running a multimillion pound organization - Tracy Enterprises - which takes up most of his time also. Unfortunately he didn****'****t make it to see me graduate which I was upset about but I do understand the reasonability he holds to the company. **_

_**The thing is, his family extends to all of his employees and all those affected by the work of Tracy Enterprises, and the company is expanding and offering jobs in a time where they are much needed. The economy is shrinking and times are hard, so being in a position to not just offer roles in the company but to also supply training and education in the many schemes and programs set up by the company is very rewarding and much needed.**_

_**So with all of that going on it was a great feeling to be going home and to see everyone together in one place, you know? We live on an island so we really are free to relax when we have downtime, the sun seems to always be shining and the barbeque is a familiar addition. It****'****s fantastic but I couldn****'****t recall the last time we****'****ve actually done it****…**** maybe Christmas? No, Scott was away and John was****…**** Anyway, we don****'****t get together as much as you****'****d think.**_

_**People keep questioning the reason why I****'****ve been traveling in the states and why I haven****'****t been on Tracy Island soaking up the rays, I am aware of how incredibly lucky I am to be born into such a family but as with any family things don****'****t always go the way you****'****d like them to. My dream scenario didn****'****t quite go to plan.**_

_**When I left college and returned home my main reason of returning - apart from seeing family and friends who reside on the island - was to ask my dad for a job with the company. I****'****ve followed the footsteps of brothers who have all gone into it one way or another, they have their different skill sets and ambitions but all have been focused on working as a team to create a better America. Working alongside them would have been everything I****'****d ever wanted.**_

_**There****'****s no point trying to hide the fact that I****'****ve never seen eye to eye with my dad, I had problems throughout school and it****'****s taken a long time to get over the death of my mother, to an extent I don****'****t think I ever will. I don****'****t want to go skiing anytime soon anyway****…**_

_**I****'****ve always argued with my dad and I've been in trouble with him more often than not, it****'****s something we will forever be working on and I hope we will one day see eye to eye. At this present time he doesn****'****t want me working for Tracy Enterprises or any of the companies involved with it, as we have a rough relationship I can understand that he wants to see a more mature son than the one that left to go to college a few years ago.**_

_**Impatiently I brought up the matter upon arriving back on the island and that was his response. It tells me a lot of things about myself and our relationship.**_

_**Because of work and various commitments I don****'****t think we****'****ve been in a position to understand the change we****'****ve both undertaken to get ourselves to where we are today. I feel like I****'****ve learnt a great deal in my college years, not just academically but through the people who I****'****ve met and known and the situations in which I****'****ve found myself. I worked my way through college and made enough money to pay my course fees and accommodation. A difficult feat but one I am proud of.**_

_**Emotionally I have realized that I have a long way to go and a lot of growing to do.**_

_**When my dad told me that there wasn****'****t a job waiting for me I didn****'****t tell anyone where I was going or plan what I was going to do, I just up and left. It was childish and irresponsible but I felt the need of space and distance to work out what I could do with my life and the hole that had opened.**_

_**Eventually, after many miles and a fleeting visit to my grandma - no, that didn****'****t go well either - I found myself in a motel drinking my way through far too much alcohol, babbling nonsense to one of my brothers down the phone and then passing out. It was stupid and reckless, not to mention one of the most irresponsible things I****'****ve ever done. It will not be repeated and is not to be recommended! The hangover was ridiclioous!**_

_**Anyway****.**** Two of my brothers came to try and take me back home, they helped sober me up and put the pieces back together and I repaid them by once more running away. I didn****'****t want to return to face what I could only see as disappointment, so I continued to travel until I eventually made my way to New York.**_

_**I****'****ve only been here a short time but I love it, the busy streets and life that never stops is incredible, I can****'****t get enough and cannot regret the decision. Though admittedly I am at the end of my savings and am looking for work which, when you****'****re someone people recognize on the street, is somewhat impossible to find. **_

_**I went through both school and college being the everyday Joe Bloggs, protected from the media and never having to answer awkward questions about what I****'****m doing or the mistakes I****'****ve made. It****'****s difficult to get used to the sudden media attention and stories, people have been judging my actions without knowing the reasons or the person behind them.**_

_**I now face the difficult choice of returning home, applying for every job under the sun, or to continue running in the hope that I****'****ll find something somewhere which will help me to get over lost hopes.**_

_**I want to grow as a person, be someone worth being proud of and help the world around me in the process. Part of me wants to be crazy, to climb mountains and jump from planes, feel alive and know what it****'****s live to see your life flash before your eyes. I want to live every day like it****'****s my last and wake up excited for what****'****s to come.**_

_**What****'****s landed me in America is not as exciting a story as the one I feel sure people wanted to hear, but it****'****s the truth in my own words. I****'****m not here to talk about my family but I wanted to explain the photos and short articles which I keep seeing on every newsstand I pass. I****'****m not a celebrity, nor do I feel fame should fall upon me in any way. I am the son of Jeff Tracy, brother to four incredibly talented guys.**_

_**I am Alan Tracy.**_

Jeff read through the article again, anger still bubbling over the simple fact that Alan had gone to the media in the first place. The kid was ridiculous; he craved attention more than anyone he'd ever known and in approaching a national newspaper had gone against everything Jeff stood for.

You didn't ever approach the media, and if they approached you then you held your head high, smiled no matter what and voiced as little as possible. And that was if you had to speak at all. By no means did you run off and sell your story to them.

The kid hadn't just sold his own story though, he'd written Jeff into it and disclosed a matter he considered a private affair between him and his son. Immediately he considered ringing his lawyer to get the article retracted as soon as possible, but by the time the cogs had been set in motion it would have been too late. It would be all over the internet, shared by thousands and driven by word of mouth. The damage had already been done.

"When did this go out?" He snapped at Penny, not bothering to take heed of the sharp look she sent his way.

"It's in today's paper. What do you think?" She stood up again, having been sat the few minutes it took Jeff to read and reread she was unsure as to what he was thinking. "I thought that he worded it very well…"

"Worded it well? He went to the press Penny! About a private matter!"

"I know Jeff, but if you read what he's actually _saying_…"

"No, I've had enough of him." Jeff stood and stormed towards the door, depositing the newspaper into the waste paper bin as he went. "He can clean up his own messes, and believe me this will come back to haunt him, but it will not be from me."

She quickly headed after him, pausing in the doorway as she watched the hunched figure striding down the hall. "It's not about the fact that he did it Jeff, it's about what he said…"

Penny trailed off as he rounded the corner and vanished.

* * *

Alan paced the hotel room floor; he'd been doing so for some time as his mind worried over when he would get that call or anger from his father. It had been days now, more than anything he was terrified that the man would turn up on the doorstep of the building demanding to see his son.

And what if he did? Alan was increasingly aware that at some point they'd need to talk and things needed to be settled, he'd found answers in his crisis mode but things were settling down. The article had contained much of the hurt and pain he'd been feeling whilst trying not to paint his father in a bad light, he'd left it there for others to read and make of it what they will.

The problem was that he hadn't thought beyond the article being published, he'd been so utterly convinced that his father would want to talk and try to resolve their problems but no, still nothing. No ringing phones, no warnings from his brothers, no messages or emails. The airways were dead.

Days had past, long days which contained little more than three square meals and the job section of the paper. When the lifeline was eventually thrown Alan found himself gripping tight and being pulled back under the wave of media attention. It was undoubtedly selfish, he knew he wanted some kind of attention – right then it could have been anything, maybe that one call would have stopped him. But as time dragged out and the summer days stretched towards the fall he'd decided just to go along with the tide that dragged him further out.

It was a scorching Tuesday afternoon when he finally made his way back to the News International offices, ridiculously late for an appointment he should have been at an hour prior. He was in no rush though and the cab driver seemed to know it, taking the long way through town and drifting through endless traffic to his destination.

As the young blonde finally exited the vehicle his phone rang out _Born To Run_by Springsteen, not the ringtone he'd been expecting to eventually hear but one that brought a wide smile to his face. Fighting the urge to sing along he ducked into the entrance of the building and accepted the call.

**_We gotta get out while we're young_**

**_`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run _**

"Hey Tin, how are things? When are you visiting me?"

He'd asked time and time again yet the answer was forever the same.  
_  
"Hey yourself, I'll visit when I get a chance to. Right now things are pretty crazy, you know what it's like."  
_  
And he did, he could envisage the island practically buzzing with activity with all of his brother's around. He'd have liked to have been a part of that but for then he'd just take what he could get.

"Aren't you due time off?"

_"Yeah, Gordon's off to London next week though so I'm standing in for him."_

He frowned, unsure whether Gordon had taken up cooking or whether Tintin had somewhere along the line become a Thunderbird.

"What do you mean standing in for him? His bad jokes and daily drowning's don't need replacing, trust me."

_"Ha de ha. I meant in a work way, on the island… computers, you know? Like when you're brothers are 'away' and your father and Brains have to... organize…. Tell me you know what I'm on about?"_

Command and control, it had to be. He couldn't think what else it would have been but then again they'd never been allowed in the room during a rescue let alone to help out.

"Yeah… I know what you mean." His voice betrayed his confusion.

_"It's only whilst Gordon's away, nothing permanent. I'd prefer to be visiting you."_ Her words were quick and hopeful as she tried to get him off his current train of wondering thought. _"What are you up to anyway? Found a job?"_

"You could say that." He smiled, the doubt he'd felt earlier ebbing away as he was reminded that the time of his appointment and been and gone over an hour ago. "I'm actually just heading in to discuss it, you just caught me… News International have made a very attractive offer."

"_News International?" _Her voice raised an octave._"What are you doing? You know how your entire family feels about this Allie, you know how I feel. I've said it enough!"_

"Woah," He rolled his eyes, unsurprised by her response. She was the first to call after the article had been published, desperate to stop whatever path of self-destruction she felt he was on. "You said I should have said all those things to my dad, but I tried and he wouldn't listen so I got it in print. And guess what? No response from him, nothing at all. If it really mattered all that much then wouldn't I have heard from him by now?"

_"That's not true Al…"_

He cut her off. "Yeah, it is true. I've given up with him anyway, I signed an exclusivity deal which got some of the other papers off my back, people know what happened and can make up their own damn minds about me. If anything I was standing up for myself and guess what? It worked."

It was true, since the article had hit the newsstands all he'd heard was positivity. People had warmed to him, they liked him and the number of nasty comments flung at him in the street had almost stopped completely. He wasn't the wild Tracy anymore, he was Alan Tracy, standing up for himself and making his own way in life.

_"They might be on your side now but you know how quickly they can turn, they always do. As soon as you become uninteresting they'll want to spice the story up…"_ She sighed loudly down the line, _"Is it another interview you're going in for?"_

"Nope!" He couldn't help but grin, the more he thought about it the more his excitement grew. The offer had surprised him yet he hadn't even thought of refusing it, it was an easy acceptance, even if nothing was yet confirmed he was willing to push whatever it took to get things in motion. "I've really got to get going Tin, I'm really late as it is."

He moved into the building, bee-lining for the reception with the familiar receptionist who'd been staring longingly over at him for some long minutes.  
_  
"Hold up!"_ Tintin sounded irritated now, confusion lacing her words he could almost feel the glare all the way from Tracy Island. "_If it's not an interview, what is it?"_

Life was short, but it didn't have to be dull. And as Gordon often spouted, weren't the rules made to be broken?

"TV show, anyway can't talk right now. Catchya' later, bye!"

Perhaps that one call from Jeff would have stopped him.


	12. The Contract

**I'm thinking it's been around a week since my last update, that's pretty good for my OCD tendencies which don't like to post anything until it's been read through and edited a good twenty times. I've only gone through this chapter a couple of times so I hope I haven't left any gaping mistakes or spelling catastrophes. **

** Thank you so much for your patience and reviews, I love reading all of your responses to Alan's antics and Jeff's reactions, very glad to hear that you're still on Alan's side... ish!**

** Without giving too much away everything I have wrote so far is relevant to what's going to happen in the chapters ahead, the idea started small but it has evolved into a mammoth project so something I hope you will see through to the end. I'm getting rather excited :)**

** Oh, and writing 6+ people into a conversation is ridiculous... **

* * *

The receptionist would have liked to have kept Alan for longer but the young Tracy found himself quickly whisked into an office he was unfamiliar with some floors above. Georgina Clark, the editor of News International newspaper, joined a small panel of five who sat around a large mahogany table awaiting Alan's arrival.

He knew that the article had gone well, Georgina had told him such some days prior and her enthusiasm had been matched in the paycheck he'd received and gratefully cashed in. Funds had been running low so the decision to discuss the idea of a television show had to some extent weighed on the fact that it would involve similar paychecks in the future.

He hadn't gone to the press to make a fast buck, he'd gone to stop the nonsense that was being written about him, to put the rumors to rest and set people's stories straight. More than that he'd wanted his father to read the article, to understand why he'd done the things he'd done and why he so desperately wanted to be a Thunderbird. He'd masked the exact words and shied away from embarrassing the man with any sharp retorts his tongue could concoct, but he had hoped the message would have been clear enough.

Alan didn't want to be a failure, he didn't want to be the youngest Tracy, always trailing behind, feeling like a burden and desperately seeking some sort of attention from a father who couldn't look at him without seeing the loss of his wife. Alan wanted to be his own person; standing up for the right reasons and proving that he could stand shoulder to shoulder with his brothers.

The television idea had come out of the blue but he had jumped at the opportunity, knowing that the article must have sold a lot of copies for the offer even to have been made. Maybe it was cockiness or maybe he was just pure enjoyment of the feeling of the weight which had been lifted when his words went into print, but he had taken his time getting to the offices. Aware that he had an appointment but certain they'd wait, not quite aware that they'd been sat awaiting his arrival for going on ninety minutes.

He smiled awkwardly as he made his way into the bright room, it was lit by a wall of windows which looked down an endless street of activity, New York never stood still. As the door swung shut behind him he took a deep breath and stepped forward, deciding that late or not he could still make a good impression, he just had to turn the charm up a notch.

"I'm so sorry, I completely lost track of time. Alan Tracy." He shook hands and beamed his warmest smile. "I have to admit, I didn't expect such a turn out for little old me."

"Mr Tracy, so good to finally meet you," One of the men stood and spoke, middle aged and balding, voice hinting Italian, "Charles Bennett, I'm the chief director of RG Media." He shook Alan's hand warmly before sitting back and picking up a pen and notepad.

"There are too many Mr Tracy's in my family, please call me Alan." He smiled at the five faces and took his own seat opposite.

The other four were made up of Georgina Clark, a man who looked only a few years older than Alan who introduced himself as CK Carter ('call me Carter'), camera man and supervising set director. Ruth Ashworth - an older woman with a mop of curly grey hair on the top of her head, film editor and directing manager. And a man who looked early thirties who had yet to remove his sunglasses - Colin Davies, production engineer at RG Media.

"So good to finally meet you," Ruth smiled, eyeing him warmly as she weighed up her opinion of him. "I've heard so much and Georgina has spoken wonders about the doors we could open for you."

"Which brings us to the reason we asked you here," Colin continued, leaning back in his chair and arching his fingers, shades resting on the end of his nose as he looked up at Alan. "How much do you know?"

"Well, Georgina said it was about the possibility a television show." He couldn't help but grin, he'd been thinking about it since she'd mentioned the idea and it still sounded like it had the potential to be amazing. "She mentioned ski diving, bungee jumping, that kind of thing."

Carter leant forward, barely touching his seat as he jittered in excitement. "A reality TV show, think of it as the ultimate bucket list - a series of dare devil activities people want to do before they die. You're young, energetic, and after reading the article people are already talking about you." He spread his hands out over the air as he spoke, his antics causing Charles Bennett to smirk.

"We've had the idea for a while now but no one to take the spotlight, we really think that you'd be the perfect person to bring the extreme bucket list to life. You'd have to travel a lot, we're envisaging four months of filming across the world ending a few weeks short of the Christmas period."

"Everything would be paid for," Colin continued, "food, accommodation, travel etc., and you'd also get a sizable pay which we can discuss if you wish to go further with the idea. We'd firstly commission a one off Pilot episode of the show and test it on the public to gage the response; if it proved successful we'd continue our filming and aim for around six episodes in total, each an hour in length."

Ruth jotted down some notes, her pen flowing across the paper without her even having to look, eyes still trained on Alan. "We haven't come up with a name yet, we didn't want to jinx the idea in case you declined. Right now the ball is completely in your court."

He had spent a long time thinking about it, from the moment he'd hung up the phone from speaking to Georgina some days prior to when he'd got off the phone to Tintin. He wasn't doubtful though, he just felt excitement and opportunity. He'd get paid to do the things he'd always wanted to do, the only downside was that millions of people could potentially be watching. It seemed a small price to pay for the opportunity of a life time.

"I'm loving the idea." He was met with an open relief from all five faces, Georgina winked at him as she let out a long held breath. "Of course I'd need to see a full contract and have time to go through it, but as long as it met my own terms I'd be happy to say yes."

"What terms are you thinking?" Colin asked, brow furrowing as he considered the possibilities, he had dealt with many a celebrity before and knew many of their 'ways, though Alan admittedly surprised him.

"I'm not getting naked, you can forget that!" Ruth surprised a snort of laughter but Georgina just grinned all the wider and waggled her eyes brows at him. "I'm not eating crocodile testicles or anything similar… I've watched television, I know how these things go so let's get that in the contract from the start."

He had thought about it and considered asking for more money, he didn't yet know how much he was being paid but it felt the thing to do. But Alan never did as expected, he was more concerned with something ruining the fun than whether his bank account was loaded or not. He wanted enough money to live on, he wanted adventure and he wanted to forget about the dream job his father had denied him.

"I don't want to catch malaria or some tropical disease, I presume I'll be covered medically?"

"We'll make sure that you have all of the relevant injections before sending you anywhere that may pose a threat to your health," Charles noted, still scribbling on his pad of paper, "there'll be strict health and safety guidelines so if we consider anything completely unsafe then it won't happen."

"Obviously the aim of the program is to show various extremes in sports, activities and suchlike," Carter continued, running a hand through dark hair that looked to be constantly disheveled in appearance, "so we're wanting to throw in the unexpected and to get your genuine reactions, there'd be no retakes."

"We have a rough outline of what you'd undertake, at the moment it's quite bland but the research guys are looking into it and hoping to spice it up a bit and see if we can get permission for certain areas and activities." Georgina spoke for the first time, seemingly somewhat humbled by those around. She was the newspaper editor so the television side of News International was somewhat foreign to her, though she had wanted to be involved from the moment it had been mentioned. On having the first interview with Alan she felt a certain connection to the young enthusiastic man before her. "I've had a look through and I really think that you'll enjoy it."

Ruth nodded in agreement. "Think of it as a worldwide extreme adventure holiday, all expenses paid. We just want to see that amazing personality of yours shining through."

He shrank back in his chair slightly, aware of just how effective his 'amazing personality' could be when it came to family. For the first time doubt shone through sending nerves skittering through his body with worry. What if he came across as the spoiled arrogant child his father saw him as? What if the public took against him? There'd no longer be anywhere to run…

"Alan. The public _will_ love you."

Colin voiced the words, catching Alan's look and knowing what was on the blonde's mind, surprising considering his otherwise dejected approach to the meeting. He finally took his sunglasses off to reveal the green eyes beneath, honest and to the point as any production engineer would need to be.

"If we didn't believe in you then we wouldn't be wanting to invest such a large capital to get the ball rolling. We've read your words, we've seen the public's reaction and now we've seen the real you. Unless you possess incredibly good acting skills then I'd hope my years in the public sector would account for being able to spot a good egg when I see one." He flashed a dazzling white smile.

Carter nodded along, agreeing wholeheartedly. "As it's been said before, there'll be a Pilot episode before we'd decide whether or not to air an entire season. The public will see it but so will you, if you don't like it then we won't continue."

"You'll love it Alan, I know you will. I already do and we haven't even started!" Ruth mothered him, reaching over and squeezing his hand, all too convincing as he nodded along and allowed his own smile to return.

"Ok, you've convinced me." One deep breath and a stomach full of butterflies later he nodded. "Where do I sign?"

* * *

Brains was tired, the muscles in his legs ached from the countless hours spent wandering around the workshop and silos collecting machinery and parts, checking calculations on the various computers and programming data into his equations. He could probably have slept for a week, perhaps hibernate for a few long months if time would have allowed him.

Though it wasn't time so much as brewing excitement which stopped him from crawling back into the main house and into his bed, things were finally coming to a head and after over three years of work his 'masterpiece' (as Jeff named it) was nearing completion. The smug feeling that threatened to emerge and scoff in the face of scientists who had laughed at him in the past hung back, pulled down by a wave of wariness that told him not to get carried away too soon.

Things had been destroyed along the journey, and not just 'things'. One of the silos had been completed rebuilt after a sonic charge had accidentally detonated and taken out much of the flooring and concaved the walls. Luckily it was a (mostly) empty silo and not one of the ones used to store the precious Thunderbird machines. Computers had been lost, data which had taken months to collect, one of Virgil's paintings which he'd brought down one day to show Fermat and carelessly left a good three hundred feet away from Brain's latest prototype. Scott's eyebrows had been mourned and ridiculed as well as most of the hair on Brain's forearms.

The losses stacked up, though the potential achievement outweighed all of them, even Scott's eyebrows.

Brains had gathered the family outside one of the silo's doors which were spread open to reveal Thunderbird Two in all its glory. The green bug shone out a vision of engineering and power, ready to save the world at of the sound of a siren. It made them all uneasy to see it stood so closely to Brains who was increasingly renowned for his powers of destruction. Yet he seemed to require its use which made them all the more wary.

"You have tested whatever this is, right?" Scott chewed his bottom lip, standing rigidly in the middle of a line of brothers, his father and Tintin who had come down to see what the commotion was about. He was glad that Thunderbird One hadn't been the subject of whatever was about to happen yet he still felt a responsibility to the green bug which left him with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"In theory." Brains grinned; he couldn't help the excitement which brewed and edged him on to complete the final stages of design. He turned and scanned the small setup he'd erected for Fermat, his younger protégé stood beside a computer reading through graphs, completely oblivious to the worry around him. "F-F-son? Are we re-re-rea-set?"

"What do you mean in theory?" Jeff was more familiar than most with Brain's inventions, having been the one to bring the scientist to the island to help develop the birds and keep them advanced in whatever technology they could invent or acquire and improve. He trusted Hiram like a brother yet he couldn't help but wonder how far the man would go sometimes. He glanced to his eldest son's eyebrows, long since grown back but forever a reminder of past mishaps.

Fermat glanced over the top of the monitor, eyes wide through the thick lenses of his glasses, eyeing the small crowd. "We've tested it on other objects Mr. Tracy." He smiled nervously, nodding towards the small contraption which until now they'd failed to notice attached to the side of Thunderbird Two. "It's taken a w-w-long time but we're happy that it'll w-w-work."

"Should we stand back a bit?" Virgil was already stood a few meters behind the group with Gordon, they both wanted to see whatever the invention was - after all, Brains had spent years working on it - but as they didn't actually know what it was they were happier looking on from a distance.

Brains joined Fermat by the monitors and started keying in numbers, pushing his glasses up his long nose and repeating the motion a few seconds later when they slid back down. "Ok, we're r-r-ready to go."

"FAB Brains." Jeff nodded, standing side by side with Scott who wore the same expression.

Gordon and Virgil stepped back again, Tintin joining them as they tried to figure out what exactly they were meant to be watching.

"Are we watching the big green bug or what?" Gordon called, his words falling on empty air as the two Hackenbackers muttered together over the beeping of computers. "If it's meant to make it look more attractive then it isn't working."

Virgil took his eyes off the machine long enough to glare at Gordon. "You can't say that in front of her…Especially as it's not true."

"Oh?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry Virg, it's hard when I don't have my beer goggles on, all I can see is a very hungry caterpillar on Brains version of _Bang Goes The Theory_. Today's edition; '_Cosmetic Surgery, does it actually work?_'"

Tintin snorted into her hand, knowing from Scott's tense shoulders that he could hear the bickering two behind him yet she was unable to ignore the free sideshow.

"Today's edition; _Shut Up_!" Virgil countered.

"Now you just sound daft, have you ever even seen the show?"

"It takes a true artist's vision to appreciate such beauty, am I right Tintin?" He turned to her catching her off guard as she watched them rather than the Thunderbird, she shrugged and tried to pull off a nonchalant look.

"Don't drag me into it, I'm here to watch Brain's invention, not you two winding Scott up."

"Winding Scott up?" Virgil stopped short of whatever he was about to add, a glare from his eldest brother burning into his head as he turned and felt the full effect. Shrinking back slightly as he reverted his attention back to Brains and Fermat who were still keying information into the computer.

Gordon just winked, folding his arms over himself but remaining quiet all the same. The reaction had Tintin grinning, one thing living on an island didn't leave her short of was humor.

A few long minutes went by, Gordon shuffling on his feet whilst the rest of them watched and waited. Eventually Brains pulled out a panel with a few colored buttons on, making his way across to Jeff before handing it out.

"The honor is yours." He looked like a kid having all his Christmases at once, impatiently waiting for the reaction and its full effect.

Eying him warily Jeff took the small control panel, eyeing Thunderbird Two and back to Brains before looking back at the machine.

"Here goes…"

They held a shared breath and watched. Jeff pressed the button… Thunderbird Two vanished.

"What the hell?" Virgil was the first to speak, striding across and towards where the 'bird had been. Eyes seeking out any sign of it, finding nothing and spinning back to look between the group. "Where is she?"

Brains grinned all the more; Fermat joined his father and looked proud beyond measure.

"She's still t-there."

A few seconds later when Jeff had got his head around it her to grinned, rubbing his hands together with glee as he realized what Brain's had invented.

"A cloaking device?"

Head nods, more grins, a clap on the back and a shared stare into what appeared to be thin air.

"Press the b-blu-blu-aqua colored button."

The 'bird reappeared, Virgil jumping back as she towered above him having not moved an inch.

"Amazing," Jeff nodded excitedly, "How soon can we install?"

"That's incredible!" Gordon gushed forward, no longer afraid of losing more than his eyebrows as he stared at the 'big green bug' with a new found passion. "Can you do that to people?"

"Can you install one on Thunderbird One?" Scott asked, already jealous that his 'bird didn't already have the device. "This opens up so many doors for us… media coverage can be limited, we can fly over restricted airways, security wise this is incredible Brains."

Gordon hovered near Jeff's shoulder. "Can_ I_ turn invisible?"

"Is this a prototype of have you completed the design?" Jeff strode off towards the console as he followed Brain, controller firmly in his hand as he ignored Gordon's longing eyes.

"I think we c-c-can get it op-operational within the next few w-weeks."

Brains sudden popularity sent him beetroot red, happy beyond belief that the test had gone to plan and relieved that they were all so enthusiastic. He squeezed Fermat's shoulder and smiled at his son with both relief and praise.

They'd finally cracked it. The excitement of finishing the project was only topped by the fact that they could start a new one, and they always set their sights high.

* * *

Alan found the next week to be a non-stop rollercoaster of appointments, he'd had a long day sat with a lawyer and the show's producer going through the contract and rewriting as they saw fit. It was all new to him but he wasn't stupid and made sure that he wouldn't be caught out by anything too unexpected and unpleasant. Though he was willing to put himself out there and try things out of his comfort zone... to an extent.

The days after the contract was signed involved a visit to the local hospital to get malaria tablets and injections against whatever diseases resided in whatever country they were sending him for the pilot episode. The tablets had made him violently sick for twenty four hours but once his stomach finally settled he forged ahead with a photo session for the paper and images for the show.

He had to pack clothes for a warm climate, something he was used to but he was unsure whether it would be tropical or desert heat, or something in-between. Carter had turned up that morning with his filming equipment, setting up with a light technician who appeared an hour later. They set about filming Alan packing his suitcase, watching him debate over whether he'd need socks or not amongst other things.

"_I could be going to a desert, but do people in the desert even wear socks… I'm running out of room here, do I need them? Can't you just nod or something, you don't even have to film it - I'm not going to tell anyone that you gave me a hint about socks. No? Yes? And what about washing stuff like shampoo, every hotel I've ever been to leaves those little bottles and miniature bars of soap all over the bathroom. When we were kids we collected enough soap to fill my eldest brother's shoes... he wasn't impressed."_

It was hard to get used to the lack of response from Carter or the light technician, occasionally Carter would shrug or grin but other than that he was remarkable good at his job. Alan didn't have a clue where he was going or what he'd need, he could only hope that if he forgot anything they'd be kind enough to supply it.

Oh well, it was an adventure and he was determined to make every minute of it amazing. __

* * *

_Take a minute to review?  
Suggestions as to where I should send Alan? ;)_


	13. The Transfer

**Sorry for the delay, I'm still here. I took two weeks off to catch up with a heavy work load and a busy show season, it wasn't planned but needed to be done. Annoying not just for you as I really wanted to get Gordon's Olympic trip written before the start of the games which have obviously now finished. (Weren't they good?) *cough* Team GB *cough* **

** Thanks for the brilliant reviews and a big hello to all the new followers, I loved your suggestions of where to send Alan and subtle (or not) comments about what could happen to him. I've spent a long time trying to decide how many episodes the first season would have as I was acutely aware of having to write them, my Google skills have been working overtime to unravel exciting places and possible scenarios to heat things up a bit (poor Alan). I've not been out of Europe before and have a shocking lack of geographical knowledge so please correct me if I really mess up. **

** Alan will have more interaction with his brother's in the upcoming chapters, and when I say interaction I mean more than a phone call, email or video chat. Passports at the ready! **  
** As for Alan and Jeff? Well… who knows (apart from me). I won't reveal when the whump will be, how it'll happen or whether the Thunderbirds will be involved. All I can say is that this fic is probably about half way, maybe not even that - there's a lot to come.**

** To have an extra nosey at what inspired the fic and certain chapters take a look at my profile.**

* * *

That evening after the unveiling of the Thunderbird cloaking devise Scott sort out his father, the day had been vastly positive with no mention of Alan an a distinct relaxed feeling in the air. Since the article had been printed news on his youngest brother had been quiet, though Scott knew better to believe that was necessarily good thing; Alan had the type of personality that attracted people like moths to a flame, he wasn't the type to sit twiddling his thumbs awaiting a response from a silent father. He'd go and find something else to do, and that was what worried Scott the most.

He had planned on seeking out and speaking to Tintin who had spent a large part of the day seemingly avoiding him, whenever he finally caught up with her she's dart off again mentioning the time or how she had to carry out some menial task, as she was speaking to Alan regularly and seemed the most clued up on his current situation this concerned Scott all the more.

The current calm on the island didn't quite stretch to his frayed nerves and eventually he gave up trying to get an explanation or at least an update from the young woman, instead diverting his attention to a father who had yet to express his thoughts and feelings to the only person who needed to hear them - Alan.

Jeff was an easy find, the day had stretched through till evening and he was in his office staring out of the panoramic window at the setting sun. He wore that all too familiar look that said that his mind was preoccupied on anything but the orb of orange light dipping silently beneath the horizon, he was thinking of the one thing Scott wanted to discuss, not that he'd admit it.

"Dad?" Scott hovered in the doorway for a moment before making his way in, a small head turn and smile from his father told him that he had been acknowledged amidst the mans reverie. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?" Turning from the view Jeff made his way behind his desk and took his usual spot in the chair behind, cup of coffee half drank in front of him and phone sat to the side silently.

Scott perched on one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, pulling it forward so he could be closer to his father. "It's more about what's on your mind." He took a deep breath and swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, for some reason the subject instantly made him tired and for a moment he debated backing off, already knowing where the conversation was likely to go.

He'd spoken the John on the com link earlier in the day though, he knew that all of his brother's felt the same, something needed to be done and if they didn't step in then things would get a whole lot worse before getting better. It seemed an impossible task but with the youngest Tracy involved the seriousness of the matter only grew in concern.

"And what's that Scott?" Jeff probably knew, he _must _have, yet he just sat there smiling back at his son who felt nothing but pressure mounting on his shoulders.

"It's Alan, you've not spoken about him in days. You've made no contact and didn't even respond to the newspaper article. We're worried, all of us."

Leaning back Jeff let out an exasperated sigh, annoyance flicking over his features as the subject he'd so desperately avoided came into conversation.

"I don't need to contact him, he's on his own path and he can deal with the consequences as he sees…"

Scott cut in, eyes begging his father to see things differently that one time. "It's Alan we're worried about, though your silence on the matter isn't helping."

"Hang on a minute…"

"No, you've got to get in contact with him Dad." He was mad, he was more upset than Jeff could have known but the worry outweighed all of that emotion. "When we tried to bring him home he was a mess, and I wish to hell and back we could have got him home but we didn't, but out of everything he's said and done there is one thing that sticks out clearer than any other."

"And what would that be?" Jeff folded his arms over himself, brows furrowed.

"He said that he'd make you proud no matter what it took."

"I am proud… well, I was until he decided to run _away_from his problems." He reached for his coffee, drinking slowly as he eyed Scott over the mug before setting it back down. "I don't see how having a newspaper article written had that aim, if anything it's done the exact opposite."

"He also said he'd make mom proud." Scott chewed his lip anxiously, the sound of Alan's words cutting in again and again since the first time they were muttered in a drunken haze, every time Scott closed his eyes he could see the desperation in his brother's eyes amidst a grief he'd never been able to bury. "He said he'd made her proud, cause he didn't think she would be."

Jeff stared into thin air for a minute, the hand which held the mug of coffee hovering before he finally glanced back at Scott before looking away. Scott knew he'd hit a nerve.

"He'd just graduated and he thought that you weren't proud of him, he believed it to the extent of thinking that mom wouldn't have been either. Doesn't that say something to you?"

Jeff stared over the sunset in silence, he didn't have a reply so Scott continued, hopeful that he was finally getting through.

"He wants you to notice him, he wants some kind of recognition, some hint that he's made you proud. I've thought about it and yeah, I was angry with him to, but I know why he's doing it and it's heartbreaking because it's destroying the both of you."

"He could have come to me." Jeff weakly muttered.

"And said what? How do you ask for recognition from your own family when you've been denied the one thing you've set your life towards?"

Hard eyes darted to Scott's. "That's unfair; we never planned for him to join International Rescue. Not me, not you, and not Gordon, Virgil or John. None of us ever wanted him to be a part of it." He banged the mug down angrily, meeting Scott's glare and forcing it back. "He nearly died in that avalanche with your mother Scott, I'm not risking losing him again!"

Jeff stood and strode away, an all too familiar habit. He didn't catch Scott's muttered words or the sad head shake.

"It looks like you already have."

* * *

Life was great. Well, as great as life could be for a twenty one year old runaway who wasn't on speaking terms with his father. That aside, things were starting to look up for the engineering graduate who had only the week prior no idea what to do with his life.

A week of packing, interviews, photo sessions and form filling had soon past and Alan had found himself on a flight to England from whence his connecting flight would take him to South Africa. It had been nice to have some time to just sit and contemplate what lay ahead, whilst his luggage was transferred he sat in the arrivals lounge watching incoming passengers claiming their luggage and being greeted by whoever awaited them at the other side of the gate.

Heathrow airport was busier than usual, with the Olympics opening ceremony only days away athletes had begun flooding in to the awaiting crowds of supporters. Many carried oddly shaped packages, from long oars safeguarded in cardboard and bubble wrap to cased tennis rackets and even the odd bicycle and hockey stick. Some of the faces were full of enthusiasm and excitement whilst others looked stoic and nervous, heading towards whatever fate awaited them.

All the athletes were heading on a journey unlike any other and in a strange way Alan felt as though he could relate, he was used to traveling and seeing different destinations around the world but what lay before him was unknown and filled him with a mix of longing and wary uneasiness. There was some doubt there but the butterflies in his stomach were kept down by the thought of the rewards such an adventure could bring.

He'd planned to catch up on some sleep to try and fill the gap between time zones and introduce his body to different hours but the distractions of the busy airport wouldn't allow him the rest, when a quiet lull came between flight arrivals he was interrupted from his musings by the shrill ring of his phone; _Treading Water _by _Alex Clare _rang out causing a few waiting passengers to glance his way.

Glancing down at the screen Alan smiled, happy to have someone to talk to as the film crew he was flying with were busy working through whatever details needed triple checking before they arrived in South Africa.

"Hey Gordo, how goes?"

It wasn't unusual for Gordon to call; through Alan's stay at college Gordon had checked in with his brother every couple of days, often more. Be it over the internet or on the phone he had made sure that they stayed in touch. When Alan had returned home and subsequently left there had been a couple of quiet weeks but as things began to settle and it was made clear that Alan would not be returning home the phone calls had slowly started once more.

Over the last week Gordon had called most days, often missing his brother and being left with the dull sound of an answer phone yet forever curious as to what Alan was up to, although Alan wouldn't divulge the details his older brother still seemed intent on unraveling the web of 'mystery' he liked to call Alan.

"_Not too bad little bro, thought I'd check in and see how things were going, how life's treating you and all that." _The sound of traffic filled the background and the odd car horn, Gordon's footsteps rang out clearly over the line.

"I'm good, just sat in an airport in London actually about to…"

"_I'm in London!" _Gordon cut in, almost shouting in excitement,_ "We can meet up, see some sights and get something to eat." _His footsteps stopped._ "I was just heading to grab some food, which airport? I'll swing by. Hang on… TAXI!"  
_  
Alan rolled his eyes, "I don't think taxis respond to that over here," he smirked, envisaging his brother running along after black cabs with their lights already lit. "Anyway I'm not stopping as I have a connecting flight in half an hour. I'm stuck in arrivals until we can transfer."

"_I wondered why they never stopped…" _He sounded slightly dejected._ "Where you heading? London is the place to be Allie, I could smuggle you into the freestyle swimming on Sunday, and if we're really clever we could try and get hold of some opening ceremony tickets. Not quite sure how but… Lady P's English, give her a call and BAM! VIP tickets next to the Queen, tally ho hey pip!"_

"Don't ever do the accent again, you sound like a pirate batting for both teams."

"_Aw come on, it wasn't that bad! I'm going native."_

"I think it was grounds for deportation Gords." He grinned, checking his watch as the arrival time of his plane flashed up on the board. "I'm heading to South Africa which should be somewhat warmer than whatever the Brits call summer. I would love to see some of the events here but I have work to do, money to earn."

"_In Africa?" _Gordon sounded somewhat confused.

"Yep. Not sure quite what yet but I'll keep you posted."

"_You've had all your jabs, right? Malaria and all that."  
_

"Yeah." Too bad the mother hen aspect of his brothers hadn't lessened since he left home.

"_What areas are you heading cause there's been some interesting stories on the news about gorillas with guns in some kind of war, I wasn't really listening but if there's something going on maybe you should stay and…"_

"Gordy, it's fine!" Alan rolled his eyes, smirking at the Guerrilla warfare his brother must have been referring to. "I have guides and I trust them, if anything happens there's a very large insurance claim to be made and one hell of a news story."

"_Don't even joke about it Al, something could go wrong and you just don't know with these things. What part are you going to?"_

"Somewhere along the border of the Eastern and Western Cape but I'm not entirely sure, as I said I have a guide. I'll let you know ok? As far as I'm aware it's all safe and the health and safety forms came back clear, if they were concerned then they wouldn't be taking me at all."

"_Are you sure? They're quite famous for corruption over there, maybe this is a ploy to lead you out…"_

"Gordon, it's not a ploy, it's not a trap, I won't catch malaria or be caught in crossfire, there are no guns involved, no military training, nothing like that, ok? I'm with a team of people who know what they're doing; I spent two days going through health and safety forms and…"

"_Two days?"_ Gordon's voice was full of suspicion. "_What job is this exactly? I haven't heard of any job requiring two days' worth of health and safety form filling."_

Alan was acutely aware that he should have probably left that part out. "It's fine Gords, you know what I'm like with forms, takes me forever."

"_Allie, what job is it? I'll find out in the end anyway so you might as well tell me, otherwise I'm going to think it's something completely crazy like, oh I don't know, travelling all over the place with a team of people, sounds like you're filming a travel documentary which is crazy_."

"Ha, yeah totally crazy. It's not a documentary as such…"

"_Those people with you are your film crew?!" _He was angry but Alan couldn't place the full depth of emotion, he knew his brother would be worried but as he said, health and safety was airtight and he had a crew with him. What could go wrong?

"The newspaper article went really well Gords, I earned some good money on that and then they offered me the chance to travel all over the place having a go at different things and visiting places I've never seen. It's basically a free holiday but I get paid for doing it, what was I supposed to say?"

"_You were supposed to walk away." _There was clear disappointment there, desperation in his voice which had Gordon halting in his tracks again as he debated what he should do, what in fact he could do. "_Is this a one off or a whole season?"_

"It's a one off. Well, if it goes well it'll be a season." He chewed his lip anxiously as he watched his flight rising to the top of the board for boarding.

"_What's Dad going to say when he finds out? Have you even thought of that_?"

He was angry at the mention of his father, Gordon had no right to try and guilt trip him let alone bring up the one person who wouldn't even acknowledge that Alan was his son. "What did he say about the newspaper article Gordon? 'Because I don't have a clue, from what Tintin's told me he didn't even react, so why the hell would he react to this? Out of sight out of mind, isn't that how it's always been?"

"_That's not true_." Gordon's voice dropped at Alan's unexpected response.

"I've been trying to prove myself to him for years and it's got me nowhere, you might not like or agree with what I'm doing but I'm doing it for myself." He sighed, eyes closing as he breathed in some sense of calm he'd been losing throughout the conversation. "It's not for dad anymore, it's not to impress you guys with that stupid hope that I might one day get to work with you. This is for me, I'm going to see the world and enjoy every minute of it. I'm going to take risks; I'm going to enjoy my life. Ok?" He saw the film crew approaching and the boarding gate sign flashing on the screen ahead. "Anyway I've got to go, I'll speak to you later. Enjoy the Olympics."

The line went dead and Gordon was left staring at his phone, Alan's face on the caller ID grinning madly at him yet the voice on the other end was anything but. He was left feeling guilty and completely lost, London buzzed around him in a hubbub of noise and activity yet at that moment Gordon wanted to be anywhere but.

Taking a deep breath he considered calling John, the calming voice of reason who would know what to do or at least what to say to their dejected youngest brother. Deciding that perhaps he needed to give Alan's words time to sink in and to allow himself to mull them over Gordon decided he'd think about it and perhaps call John later, they didn't know about Alan's television plans and whatever Gordon said at that moment could go down like a lead balloon.

He'd planned to meet up with some old friends and athletes he'd competed with in the Beijing games four years ago but decided to put it off till the evening, instead opting to visit the Olympic Park, home of eight of the venues including the aquatic center which he'd be visiting in a few days' time. He was aware that much of the area had been landscaped with plants, flowers and greenery which made t the perfect place for collecting his thoughts.

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**I'm starting the next chapter straight away so hopefully you can have another by the end of the week/weekend. Thanks again for your patience and fabulous reviews x**


	14. The First

**Well hello there, here is a little chapter for you. I hope you like it. **  
**J'adore the Gordon reviews, he's so great to write so there's some more in this chapter. The other Tracy boys will be making a (bigger) entrance soon and Jeff will at some point have to get involved, for now we need to solve the mystery of Alan's destination.**

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CK Carter, Ruth Ashworth and Colin Davies were the three individuals that made up Alan's crew, he'd expected more people to have been involved yet Ruth had subtly added on the plane that Colin would be heading off for a day or two once they landed and wouldn't be back till nearing the end of the shoot. That meant that the actual crew following Alan and giving the protection he'd assured Gordon's he'd have consisted of a guy only a few years older than himself (sporting some pretty expensive camera equipment), and an older lady who looked like she wanted to hug trees and save the pandas. All in all, when the plane touched down in South Africa the youngest Tracy wasn't filled with the confidence he'd set out with.

Apparently the limited crew was usual for travel type documentaries, (whatever it was they wanted to call it), to gage his true reactions and appreciation for certain activities and experiences it was best to have a limited close knit crew rather than a large unfamiliar one. It made sense yet was still somewhat unsettling as he found himself entering an unfamiliar country of which he was only vaguely aware of through news bulletins and newspaper headlines.

The connecting flight from London saw eleven hours crawl by, although Alan had tried to get some sleep it was hard to turn his mind off to the possibilities of what lay ahead and the repercussions of what lay behind. They'd landed in Johannesburg International Airport and had almost immediately taken a South African Airways flight to the city of George which saw two more hours pass.

George was in the Western Cape Province, it was warm but thankfully the months Alan considered to be his summer were different all those miles away and were ironically referred to as the cold season. It wasn't anywhere near what he'd considered cold but all the same he was thankful not to have the worry of not being able to handle the heat, he may have lived most of his life on a tropical island yet the climate change bore a stark contrast.

Unfortunately arriving in the cold season also had its disadvantages; as they exited the airport a downpour of rain greeted them with overwhelming exuberance. It left Colin rushing his goodbyes before heading off to find a taxi, as the production manager he needed a base camp to correlate footage and information with the main studio back in New York, he was heading to a rented space in the city whilst Alan, Ruth and Carter were heading out into what seemed like no man's land - territory none of them were particularly familiar with.

His two remaining companions may have been vastly unfamiliar but they did know what they were doing and easily tracked down the transport which had been arranged some days prior; an old white mini bus with rusted wheel rims and prayer beads hung on the rearview mirror. It had seen better days but as soon as they had loaded their luggage and climbed aboard the engine didn't disappoint. Heading through the car park and then the busy city away from George the driver turned the radio up and began tapping the steering wheel in rhythm to the music as it cut through the airwaves.

The mini bus had two rows of double seats with a tight aisle between them, Ruth and Carter had spaced out on two rows whilst Alan sat opposite, watching a world he'd never before seen pass by the window in a wash of rain drenched color.

"Two hours, or there about. Not long now." Ruth smiled ruefully, for an older woman she'd weathered the long journey amazingly well, in fact Alan wasn't even sure she'd slept. Not that you could tell.

He smiled over at her wondering how many stamps her passport held, she'd spoken a lot about Europe and her favorite places in the world to visit on the long flight over and had gone into detail about past charities and missions she'd been involved with. He'd thought himself well traveled but other than traveling around the United States his list was small. "Have you been here before Ruth?"

She pulled a small paperback guidebook from her knapsack; she'd picked it up on the way out of George Airport along with some food and a couple of bottles of water. "I've been to South Africa but not where we're heading now, I was just going to see if the guidebook covered it. I'd be surprised if it didn't…" A smirk edged her lips as she flicked through.

Carter leant round the seat in front to get a better view of the book, he had his camera equipment spread out across the aisle and had been methodically checking it to make sure it had all come through their many flights unharmed. He held what seemed to be his main camera, flicking through the touch screen as one hand swiveled the lens, a moment later a red light flicked on indicating that it was recording.

They'd been recording him on the plane and between airports, mainly questioning his expectations and previous travel experience. Mundane questions he could easily answer and didn't waste much time mulling over, it felt completely different now that they were in South Africa. It was like leaning back in a chair that bit too far, his heart fluttered with expectation yet he wasn't entirely sure where he would end up.

"Maybe we should tell him where he's heading," Carter shuffled in his seat so he could fit Alan into the shot fully. "I think he's been in suspense long enough Ruth."

And Alan was worried, suddenly more so because although he'd spent the last two days traveling there was forever that sense that if he stopped everything would catch up with him. What if they only filmed one episode and no one liked it? What if when that camera turned on he looked like the spoilt brat America had at one point thought him to be? It was make or break and nothing was scripted, not from his standpoint anyway.

"Alan?" Ruth waved the travel guide in front of his face snapping him from his reverie; maybe the biggest positive of the whole deal was the fact that he wasn't making those big decisions, all he had to do was go along for the ride and be himself, if no one liked it then that was that, he wasn't going to act.

"Am I actually allowed to know now? You've been keeping me in suspense for two weeks and suddenly you're going to tell me?" Brows furrowed in mock suspicion he felt much too tired to give in to any of the worry niggling in the back of his head, he pushed it to the side into a growing pile.

Holding the travel guide open for him Ruth leant across and pointed down to an article which spanned two pages, there was the image of a giant white bridge stretched over a valley surrounded by forest and a sky as large as the ocean. It was a spectacular photo but not one which gave Alan much information of what exactly it meant.

Taking the book he turned it so he could see better, eyes caught away from the photo and on to the headline.

"Bloukrans Bridge; Home of the world's highest bungee jump." He read aloud.

He should have expected it really, the thought of having to do a bungee jump had crossed his mind on multiple occasions – it was a bucket list, surely that was the kind of thing people liked to add. The image suddenly evoked much more than awe, the idea of jumping of that colossal bridge into the valley filled him with excitement and a fear which washed over him like a bucket of ice.

"Bloukrans Bridge is the highest road bridge in the Southern hemisphere and the largest single span concrete arch bridge in the world." He continued to read, aware of Carter filming him and Ruth beaming from ear to ear at his response and probably the stunned look on his face. "Two hundred and sixteen meters high, four hundred and fifty two meters long, once attracting visitors for the amazing feat of engineering Bloukrans Bridge now attracts visitors for a entirely different reason."

He stopped, eyes taking in the dimensions and brain working through how quickly his body would fall and what it would feel like. Brains would work something like that out in seconds, heck, Fermat would, but to Alan the idea was too vast too comprehend. He'd fall fast, he knew that much.

"I've never done anything like that before, that's for sure. I've been pushed into the pool at home more often than I can count, heck… it's probably the greatest distance I've fallen if I'm honest." He was nearing six feet in height, that in itself seemed a pretty long drop. "Two hundred and sixteen meters?" He looked to Carter, chewing his lip before rolling his eyes, taking a breath and letting a grin spread over his face. "Well, I guess there's nothing quite like tying an elastic cord to your feet and jumping off a bridge head-first."

"So you're up for it?"

"Sure, throw me off a bridge. What's the good of health insurance if you don't push the parameters of risk every now and then?"

They spent much of the two hour trip talking through what the jump would involve; he had two days to prepare himself mentally and to catch up with some sleep before they'd head to Bloukrans Bridge. Before then they would be staying in Tsitsikamma, the area close to the bridge with other places they could take a look at whilst they were there.

It was a bucket list but that didn't mean they couldn't add a few extras, 'get to know the real Alan' as Carter so finely put it. Though it felt like a good chance for Alan to get to know the real Ruth and Carter to.

* * *

Gordon had been in London for a few days, he'd had the time to catch up with old friends and makes some new ones, an easy task when you walked around with a grin from ear to ear and curiosity which would kill a cat. He'd even managed to get a ticket to the opening ceremony, something he wouldn't soon forget. His leave in London would last two short weeks before he'd have to return to his duties on Tracy Island, he was trying to make them count.

The auburn haired Tracy was still unsure of what to tell his brothers regarding Alan's new 'job', having considered their individual reactions and their reaction as a whole he had finally come to the conclusion that if he put it to the back of his mind then time would deal with it later - he didn't quite see the irony in that, especially as he was unaware that his youngest brother often thought on a very similar wave length. The only problem was that time seemed to be passing like grains of sand through his hands, he couldn't put it to the back of his mind for long nor hide the worry he felt for a brother who had not experienced the world in such an extreme way.

Alan had been living and studying at college for the last three years, and before that he had been to the same boarding schools as his brother's before him, and before that he'd been at home. In a way Alan had been institutionalized; he'd lived in a world arranged in a way which taught him to abide by certain rules and to ignore outside influences. He'd followed brothers who had left footsteps in which he'd eagerly followed, for a time all too easily molded into a clone of each one of them. He had interests in everything they had interests in, he followed what sports they excelled at and tried to follow, he eagerly sought approval when he matched those goals and pushed to exceed them.

There'd come a point in his life where the enthusiasm towards becoming those he looked up to turned into something quite different, Gordon was close to the kid but the youngest Tracy had turned something once thought of as endearing into something altogether resentful.

Hence, it was easy to grow concerned at the thought of him out in the world alone.

He was twenty one though, Gordon kept telling himself that time and time again. Alan was twenty one, he was an adult and needed to get on with life and make his own footsteps, perhaps the real problem was that he still hadn't grown up. Alan was still grasping on to the same issues he'd had as a twelve year old lanky child, screaming at his dad and then storming away to brood and avoid the real issue.

It was maddening, more so now that the kid wasn't actually a kid at all but an adult who could legally own a passport and use it to make ridiculous trips across continents. He had a way with words, he could talk himself into situations with ease and easily charmed those around him - much in the way Gordon could, but talking himself out? No. It wasn't in Alan's repertoire.

It was with an uneasy mind that Gordon found himself sat in his hotel room in front of the small laptop, gazing at the call button which would connect him to a brother he'd been avoiding through fear of choosing the right words. It was late in England which meant it would be early on Tracy Island and God knows what time in space, a concept the aquanaut had never grasped.

Whatever time it was he knew the call would be answered, John as reliable as the stars shining in the night sky and was always there when you needed him. He was laid back, a listener more than a speaker, he contemplated things where others would rush in without hesitation.

The call rang three times in a short shrill like tone before being picked up, the screen in front of Gordon switching to a video feed of John sat in front of a non descript background which made it impossible for any onlooker to guess the location. He wore jeans and a white t-shirt, hair immaculate as always and smile beaming out.

"Hey Gordon, how are things?"

It had taken a long time to convince Gordon to ring, he'd tried to organize his thoughts and separate them from the frantic wave of excitement that ruled London and pulled him all too easily into the events. Time had sped up yet his worries weighed him like a ball and chain.

"Good thanks, I actually wanted to talk to you about Alan. I spoke to him on Wednesday, has he checked in with you at all?"

John's eyes narrowed slightly, concern in his blue orbs as the all too familiar yet avoided subject resurfaced. "I haven't spoken to Allie since the newspaper article came out, Tintin said he'd been busy but would ring as soon as he had a chance." There was doubt there and hurt, the two brothers had been close but the gap between them slowly widened over the last few years. "What did he want to talk to you about?"

That faith held on, forever hoping that maybe Alan had made the first move, maybe his mind had been focused on all the things he'd been ignoring, perhaps the here and now had taken a back seat for once.

"I actually rang him, I'd been filling up his voicemail until he eventually up."

"Oh, right? How is he?"

"He's good, he was in London briefly but only the airport as he was heading out for a job. It's actually why I rang, I'm thinking you and Scott may need to try another one of those nifty intervention things you do. Bring him home for real this time, stop my hair from even thinking about turning grey and get Al and Dad to sort themselves out." He sighed, a hand rubbing his eyes absentmindedly as he fought away the exhaustion the subject brought.

John shook his head in understanding, seeing Gordon so serious was a rare sight and one which was obviously stressing him. "I'm going to go ahead and presume that whatever job he's landed has given you cause for concern, and by the fact that he was at an airport meant that he was heading somewhere outside of US jurisdiction?"

"He's gone to South Africa John, it's crazy! He's not been in touch since he left and I can't even leave him messages anymore because either he's out of signal range or his answer phone message box is full." He stared at his older brother, desperation lacing the anger in his words. "He had to take malaria medication before he left."

If John was surprised then he hid the emotion well, instead staring off into literal space and contemplating Gordon's words for a moment. "What's the job?" He finally asked, perhaps begging it to be some kind of charity aid mission but knowing with certainty that the hope was too much to ask.

"He's in South Africa with a film crew, and get this - apparently the health and safety forms took two days to fill out."

"Two days?" What did that even mean? Were there unimaginable risks or a brother who took none and checked everything fifty times? If it was a question of Scott filling in the forms then it would have been an easier question to answer but when it came to Alan it was anyone's guess. "So he's… he's in South Africa, filming a TV show? Am I understanding you right because that sounds ridiculous."

"You heard it right, and yeah it's completely ridiculous. Who does that?" Alan, the kid who always did the opposite of what you'd expect.

"Can you hang on the line for a few minutes Gords? I'm swapping shifts and need to do some… technical mumbo jumbo. Bare with me five minutes, and hold that thought."

"Sure, whose relieving you?"

"Virgil, though Scott's coming for the transfer."

"Oh." Great, this would be fun to explain. "See you in five."

_Quite literally_.

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**Hmmm. Intervention number 2? The first went so well...**  
**Ideas for the name of the show?** **Karl Pilkington's Sky1 series was fabulously called "Idiot Abroad" but poor Karl didn't know about it until it went to air. I'd like to think we can be a bit kinder to Alan.**  
**Please review :') Pleeeeease.**


	15. The Dawning

**_Ah. I'm so sorry for the delay, I was hoping to get this out a couple of weeks back before I had a crazy work load. I also crazily decided to take on a new foster dog, he's not lived in a house before and spent his first week howling, barking and crying every. single. night._ _So, heavy work load, exhibitions and limited sleep = long delay._ **  
**_This was meant to be a super long chapter but to save you a longer wait I thought I'd upload a very short one now, the next chapter (hopefully out within the week) will make you either love or hate me.  
_**

**_I loved all the suggestions for names for the show and so glad that you're enjoying this so far. I will not stop updating, sometimes life just gets in the way. _**  
**_Oh, and Fletty? You may be onto something_ ;)**

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John swung his chair away from Gordon's video feed to the main console which alerted him to Thunderbird Three's incoming arrival, snagging a headset he opened the communication link which had been flashing for the past fifteen seconds.

"Receiving Thunderbird Three. Loading bay ready for docking, what is your position?"

"_Message_ _received and understood, thank you Thunderbird Five. Docking schedule to commence in three minutes, operations systems green and awaiting analytic report."_

Scott's voice came over the airwaves crisp and to the point, always one for following protocol, until the job was done Scott would remain in what Virgil had dubbed 'robosco'; man or robot? When he was working it was sometimes hard to tell.

John was usually completely serious when it came to incoming flights, he had gone through the run through and system checks so many times that it had become second nature. Buttons flicked, dials checked and time monitored. Unfortunately he hadn't disconnected the call from Gordon and could hear his brother on the other end still, and to be fair to the guy he was trying to be quiet but the somewhat sombre tones of Gordon's voice singing David Bowie's '_Space Oddity_' came through eerily clear.

"_Analytic report clear. Running docking sequence_." If Scott could hear his second youngest brother then he did a good job of ignoring the earth bound Tracy, though he did have years of experience in doing so.

A few minutes later Thunderbird Three had finishing docking leaving John free to turn back to Gordon. "You still there?" He asked sarcastically, from the variety of song's Gordon had been either humming or guessing the lyrics to – badly - it was hard to be anything but.

"Yeah, just about… So, Alan's crazy, Dad's still not getting involved and I'm worried. Do we break it to Scott or what cause I've been trying to figure out what to do for days and it's distracting from how awesome I am."

"Sure." John sighed, rather than ignoring the situation he figured they'd have to address it head on. Their family didn't have a good track record of achieving much through ignoring situations.

"Tell Scott what?"

Virgil choose that moment to appear behind John, eyebrows furrowed as he looked between the two noting the seriousness on not just John's face but Gordon's also which was always an alarming sign.

"What? It's not my birthday till March and Christmas is months away, if you're even contemplating some ridiculous prank then you can forget about it." The man in question came in behind Virgil and sat down in the chair next to John's.

"Ha." The land bound Tracy smirked, perhaps taking Scott's comment as somewhat of a challenge. "What are you going to do about it?"

Scott was in a good mood, willing to pander to Gordon's antics and always willing to quote his favourite film in his best Irish accent which was slightly better than Gordon's English one. "I have a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career, skills that make me a nightmare for people like you…" He swivelled the chair so he was staring down the video feed at Gordon, fingers arched together. "I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

"You're ever so scary when you quote Star Wars."

"Wrong film," Virgil scooted in-between the two, turning to John in the hope that he could get the topic off track before Gordon really was tempted to start planning something they'd all regret. "If I'm allowed to be nosy, what were you talking about when we came in? You sounded pretty serious."

It wasn't the best situation to be breaking the news but John went on his usual principle of getting it over with, if he let the issue stew they'd learn to avoid it and so far that hadn't done the slightest bit of good. "Alan's signed up to a TV show; he's currently in South Africa doing who knows what with health and safety forms that took two days to complete."

Surprisingly the small console area they'd all crammed into went unusually quiet, it took a few long seconds for the information to seep through before Scott stood, then sat, then stood… and then sat once more.

"What kind of TV show?" He sounded genuinely hurt as though he'd been let down; perhaps it was the fact that he was one of the last brother's to know. "I haven't spoken to him in a while, when did this come about?"

Back in London Gordon was relieved to have the news off his shoulders; it was one step towards doing something about it and one huge weight off his mind. "Some documentary thing, he said something about trying out experiences… I don't know. I spoke to him not too long ago; he was at Heathrow airport waiting for a connecting flight. He sounded really positive about it all but I just worry he'll get himself into something he can't back out of."

He turned the light on by the desk, illuminating the clarity of the video feed and showing genuine worry lines on his brow. "It's television, he's signed up for one show and if that goes well they'll make a series."

"Obviously I'm concerned that he'll get himself hurt or in problems somewhere, but my main concern would be that he gets in too deep and can't back out of it. He'll be signing a major contract for News International, a company that could splash his face and name across the world with whatever story they please." John hadn't had long to think about the situation but his first thoughts had been those of concern over the tightness of the contract, when it came down to details Alan's attention span wasn't usually long enough to cover it. Heck, it wasn't long enough to wait for toast in a toaster.

Virgil nodded. "Has he not already signed?"

"He's signed for a Pilot episode, if that goes well I think he'd have to sign a full contract which would bind him to a season." Gordon looked away from the screen and to his phone, Alan's number in front of him yet he knew that if he called he wouldn't get a response.

"So we just need to find him and bring him home before he has a chance to, right? Maybe if we went through the contract with him he'd understand… if it's a pilot episode what's to say they'll even take it up? They have to get people to watch it, lots of people..."

"This is Alan we're talking about," John looked between his brothers, wary of how Scott was yet to comment, the guy looked pretty out of it as he thought through what he was being told. "One – he's a Tracy, people will tune in to watch just because they're naturally nosy. Two – It's Alan, people are drawn to him like moths to a flame, the only difference is that Alan is sure to end up being the one burned."

"Why is he in South Africa?" The eldest Tracy found his voice, cogs still working through the details in his mind.

"You're kidding, we just said!" Gordon offered an eye roll of mock sympathy.

"I heard, I mean what is he doing _exactly_? You said 'experiences', what the hell does that even mean? He can have 'experiences' back home or in the States, so why South Africa?" He stared out across the panoramic view of the stars, the odd feeling of being in space mixing with a rush of butterflies to his stomach which had yet to achieve permission to land. "Who is he with? No one we know right, so anything could happen… where in South Africa is he?"

"Calm Scott, deep breaths. I'm sure he's being responsible." Standing beside his brother Virgil offered a shoulder squeeze, it didn't help.

"Responsible? The kid stole one of the jets, ran away from home and ended up headlining a national newspaper. This has disaster written all over it!"

"If I were to agree with you," John sighed, "what could we even do? We have no idea where he is and even if we did, the last time we tried to intervene he ran away. I have the feeling that Waldo would be easier to find."

"Do you think News International is aware that he's not talking to us?" Gordon mused, "Cause if they're not we could probably get info from them, play the family emergency card or something? They'd have to divulge… right?"

Scott's worried brow turned and he beamed at his earth bound brother, "I know I don't say it much Gords, possibly because you're already overly irritating and saying such things would inflate your ego beyond manageable proportions…"

"Jeez. Don't hold back."

"…but I love you." He leant across to one of the spare monitors and began typing, "What time is it in New York."

His activity was halted by the shrill familiar tone of the Thunderbirds being called, suddenly the issue of Alan was side lined as John span his chair over to take the call.

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**Next chapter: A rescue, a jump, and a family in panic...**


	16. The Jump

**My netbook died :'( RIP little pink netbook, I shall avenge you.**

**I'm not sure about this chapter, it didn't come out quite like I wanted but after pinky died I had to divert computers - as always things didn't go to plan. I'm sorry that I haven't replied to comments and have been fairly useless of late. I know exactly where the fic is going so i'm not about to give up on it, rest assured :)**

**This fic is an Alan whump, I may divert somewhat but it is most definitely an Alan whump.**

* * *

Jeff was on command and control once more, the only difference than the time before was that Tintin was sat beside him and not the usual figure of Brains. A call had come in just after Scott and Virgil had docked on Thunderbird Five, Scott was due a couple of weeks up in the stars in order to relieve John and give the usually space bound Tracy some time back on earth.

The nature of the call was that of confusion; a school built on the side of a steep hill had been subject to a land slide caused by extreme weather in the weeks leading up. Part of the school had been buried beneath tons of rock, mud, and debris, swept along in the landslide's devastation. The incident was one of panic and of the desperate need for control, and that was where the Thunderbirds came in.

Because they still didn't know the complexity or magnitude of the impending rescue operation, Jeff had called his boys back down from Thunderbird Five and sent Brains and Fermat up to keep communications and the silver 'bird's eagle eyed protective gaze over the earth. He wasn't completely happy that Tintin was sat beside him and not his scientist friend but he was glad to have not been left manning control alone, he might have brought five boys up almost single handedly but he was in fact, not an octopus. When operating, command and control span a large majority of his office, wheels on the bottom of a chair were all well and good but it didn't allow him to be in two places at once.

Hence, Tintin's position besides him was reasoned.

Upon their return to the island, Virgil, John and Scott had immediately suited up and taken Thunderbird Two en route to Sicily, where the rescue had occurred. Their ETA had been a couple of hours but with Scott flying he'd cut the time down to ninety minutes, his brother's using the time to prepare for the task ahead.

"_There's a suspected twenty missing; sixteen children under the age of thirteen and four teachers, two men and two women." _Tintin's voice rang out through the comm link, the sound of her fingers rattling acroos keys constantly updating the information which was also being relayed through the onboard computer sounding endlessly through the airwaves.

_"The structure is said to be unstable." _Jeff added, bringing up a floor plan of the school with highlighted sections of the affected areas. "_The landslide hasn't quite settled so there could possibly be some more movement, you'll need to find out what area of the school the missing are without being too intrusive_._ This is a delicate operation boys, we don't want or need further casualties_."

As Thunderbird two made her decent down onto an open grass field a good hundred meters further down the hill on flat land, they surveyed the area above, the air had settled and they could clearly see the covered remains of part of the school building. It was an old building; perhaps Baroque in style, the structure had been one of solid stone and giving the force of the landslide most of the building had fared astoundingly well. The part which was covered, however, seemed to have completely lost its red slate roof and the walls had vanished under thick debris.

"_Are you seeing this_?" Scott asked the island bound pair through the microphone inbuilt in his helmet, the typing had momentarily stopped and Jeff's commentary had fallen silent.

The hill from which the land had shifted down from was more like a sheer cliff face - at least that was how it looked at that moment in time. A huge chunk of the land had dislodged itself from some kind of rock face, with nothing left to cling onto the only direction it had left to go was down onto the school which sat immediately below.

The extreme weather which had presumably triggered the shift was still very much upon them; a howling gale threatened to pull Thunderbird Two from the sky and the rain lashed down with an angry ferocity which turned the sitting debris into a river of mud. It was early afternoon in the region yet the dark clouds gave the illusion of an early evening, dark and foreboding it wasn't looking to be an easy rescue.

Scott's words hung in the air for a few tense minutes as each side thought through their best plan of action.

* * *

Alan had not been enjoying the weather, the sunshine and everlasting suntan he'd expected had been washed away by a South African winter. Yeah, it was relatively warm and he had yet to see a mosquito, but he felt constantly damp and putting a coat on only resulted in him sweltering under his only protection from the never ending torrent of water. He was told that it was an unnaturally wet winter for the region yet that didn't help the mood associated with it.

They're had a few days respite wherein they'd visited an elephant sanctuary and stopped at a children's hospital close by. He wasn't quite sure why anyone's bucket list would include sick and dying children but the experience would be something he took with him into the rest of his life and admittedly he had found the whole emotional aspect incredibly rewarding _and_humbling. His pessimistic attitude and worries had taken a U-turn relatively early on in the trip and the dampened feelings in response to the weather were laid out to dry.

The kids in the hospital were fantastic and beyond inspiring, many of them had lost parents to the likes of malaria or bacterial infections caused by dirty water and foul living conditions. For kids that had been through so much in their short life's, they shone out boundless smiles which brightened the threatening skies and gave Alan hope when the American side of him wanted to moan about a rather irritating hair style brought on by the dampness.

There were more important things to life; he was starting to see that.

After a while Carter's camera and constant questioning had faded into the natural routine, Alan finally felt himself relax and no longer felt pressured to perform and put on a persona he felt the public wanted to see. He got on well with both Carter and Ruth and was having a great time just traveling around and working his nerves up to the impending jump ahead.

On the day of the jump he found himself commentating without being asked, having read through Ruth's guide book more than once he was able to grasp a basic understanding of the area which the hotel's internet connection allowed him to expand upon. He may have been an engineer by qualification but outside of his usual island or mainland routine he found a world full of interests to keep him enthralled, the distractions were limitless.

"We've just begun our trip to Bloukrans bridge, it's about an hour's drive so I've got some time to work up my nerves." Alan grinned, lips wavering as nerves tried to edge their way in but he shrugged them away. "The weather has been pretty reliable in the sense that the rain has yet to let up, I've not see anyone bungee in the rain before yet I'm told that unless a thunderstorm starts the jump will go ahead. Judging by how much water is currently falling from the sky I'd be quite happy to tick bungee jumping _and_diving from the bucket list based on the fact that I will come out just as wet... I'm not sure if a diving suit would be appropriate attire, jeans and a t-shirt might not have been the best of choices."

They trundled along in the old mini bus with their familiar driver, Alan with a set of double seats to himself with his feet leant against the chair in front. Carter sat opposite with his camera equipment forever at the ready, Ruth ahead of him with her laptop out checking through all the health and safety forms for what seemed like the thousandth time. Alan had decided to calm his nerves by rambling to Carter's video feed; if anything just to keep his mind off the impending drop.

"The bridge stands two hundred and sixteen meters above the river and is the largest single span concrete bridge in the world. Though if you're like me you probably can't name any other concrete bridges other than ones you drive under on your way to work each day. Bloukrans is higher… Probably."

There was only so many times he could say the same facts and ramble on about how scary it was going to be, eventually Carter turned off and left him to mull over the fact that by that time the next day it would all be over and they'd be heading back to the US.

* * *

Virgil had entered the school building from the east entrance, or more precisely one of the windows of the east entrance. Half of the building had been covered in debris which thankfully didn't seem to be going anywhere.

They were all wearing full protective gear and their helmets covered their faces, the other rescue workers whom had been on site at the Thunderbird's arrival had backed off to give the boys some room to survey structural damage and to hopefully locate the missing teachers and pupils.

Of the sixteen children missing Scott and John had already pulled seven and one adult out of the west wing. One of the doorways had caved in leaving them trapped, the comm link between the two teams had gone quiet for a few minutes when they'd finally got the civilians out of the building and to the waiting ambulances.

"_Ok, we're back_." John's voice cut through the eerily quiet airwaves, the mudslide had caused a distortion of sound muffling the noise outside and silencing their careful footsteps. "_Heading further into the building and towards the back classrooms_."

"FAB John. I've reached the kitchen, apart from dust and mud damage it's looking in good shape. No life signs in this area so far."

Virgil was heading towards the main hallway where the remaining missing were thoughts to be located, a warning had sounded as land further up the hill had shifted before the mudslide. Most of the students and teachers had immediately left but for some reason others had lagged behind and been caught up. If they had been planning to leave then the main hallway was their route out of there.

_"Are you picking up any sound disturbances?"_Jeff voiced through the comms.

"Nope." Virgil slwly span around, circling with one of the listening devices as he listened intently. "There's been some minor shifting of debris but it seems settled. We are yet to approach the area of the school which has the most damage."

"_Scott, John_?"

_"We're picking up slight readings of something," _Scott replied,_ "not sure what yet but we're going to start excavating some of the blocked corridors to see if there's any way through."_

"_Where are you currently located?"_Tintin's voice over the comm link forever the unexpected.

"_West side, passing classrooms three and four onto hallway two_." John relayed the information through the computer in his helmet, marking out on the map so they could keep track of the layout. "_Have you got the area fully plotted_?"

"_We have now, thanks son."_ Jeff again,_ "And be careful, the outside teams may be able to help if the area seems too unstable_."

"_FAB Dad_."

"_FAB_."

"We've got some weight bearing equipment in Thunderbird Two which may come in handy," Virgil had painstakingly cleaned it the week prior, he wasn't soon going to forget it was there, "survey the damage and we can access where to go from there."

"_Good call son, take it slow and reconvene at the main entrance when the damage is assessed. Don't go moving anything before then, ok_? _And keep in regular contact over the comms._"

* * *

All too soon the minibus with its crew and star attraction arrived at Bloukrans, if Alan had any idea of how high two hundred and sixteen meters was he was sadly mistaken. As they made their way along to the cat walk which stood just below the road he looked down and felt his stomach fall with his eyes. It was a long drop.

"You ready for this Alan?" Ruth smiled, the twinkle in her eye showing just how much she was enjoying watching his nerves. White as a sheet and lost for words Alan was reconsidering how much he valued his life and how much the people currently taking the plunge valued theirs.

"I'm about to jump off a bridge with what is basically an elastic band tied to my feet… who does that?"

He stared over the edge and down, down towards Bloukran's river below and the jumper currently plummeting towards it before the bungee pulled him back up towards the solid concrete structure of the bridge.

"Alan Tracy?"

He turned and gave a nervous smile to the woman strolling towards him, hand outstretched in greeting and wearing an "_Xtreme Living_" T-shirt.

"Fiona. I'm going to be setting you up for your jump today. You ready?"

"Erm. Sure. Yeah. I guess." He shook himself. "Yeah, yes, I'm ready."

Carter was filming, no doubt lapping up Alan's mini meltdown as the bungee crew on the catwalk began to get him prepared. There was even more health and safety and long overly detailed explanations about all the equipment being attached to him. Fiona was all smiles and had obviously helped a thousand people do the exact same thing yet the worry didn't dissertate.

He climbed into a body harness, it was an optional piece of equipment yet the film crews weren't taking any chances. They checked his movement to make sure his jeans and t-shirt combo wasn't too restrictive – apparently the injuries move commonly associated with bungee jumping were rope burns.

Before they attached the ankle harness which would secure the bungee to his body Alan asked for a few minutes to collect himself and prepare mentally, like that would help, he walked along the catwalk some way and tried not to look down. It was easy, jump off the bridge, bounce back up, everyone goes away happy. Literally as easy as jumping off a bridge.

His phone vibrated in his pocket - that would have to be put to the side as no doubt he'd lose it. He checked the screen before turning back to the jump crew but something stopped him, a tugging feeling on his naval which had nothing to do with the jump.

**Incoming Call. Tintin.  
**  
She knew he was jumping, she knew the time differences and that it really wasn't the time to call. The surprise and questioning niggle at the back of his mind made him answer, maybe she could reassure him, promise to visit or at least shine that bright smile down the line to him.

"Hey Tin!"

_"Alan?"_

"Yep, I'm just about to do the bungee; you caught me just in time."

She was worried and distracted and hadn't processed what he'd said. Something was wrong. Keys clicked and beeped in the background.

"_Alan, you're brothers have been… working. Your dad said to wait but I couldn't, I had to call you._"

"Oh… right… all ok?" It sounded ridiculous to ask, obviously something was wrong yet he couldn't voice words which would endanger them more than a mission to anyone who would happen to overhear. There was a long pause, longer than Tintin should have allowed and longer than Alan's already frayed nerves could take.

"Tintin? Is everything ok?"

"_No."_ A long breath held the line clear. "_It's John. He's had an accident_."

He glanced back to where Ruth was beckoning him and tapping her watch. He had to jump within the next few minutes; people were waiting for their own chance to test death. He waved his hand signaling he'd be a minute, giving thumbs up when she frowned.

He took a moment to process the thought, John's had an accident. You're in South Africa, waiting to jump off a building for fun, and John's had an accident.

"Is he ok?"

"_No. Well, they're… they're going to be heading to hospital_." They were still on scene; the beeping in the background gave it away. He could distantly hear his father's tone and envisaged him sending panicked messages through the comm system.

"Are they far from the hospital?"

"_I'm not sure, it could be… a while. It's been difficult, it was… unexpected."_

She knew that he was on the same wavelength, Alan understood and he didn't like it one bit. He wasn't there, he didn't even know where they were and he couldn't even ask. Secrecy was the one rule their family held over any other.

"Oh, right. What do I do?"

"_What do you mean?"_She was confused at his reply.

John was injured. What the hell could he do? He wasn't there; he couldn't ask questions, he couldn't even give support.

"I… I'll come home."

_"No Allie… I'll ring you when I know more. I just… I just thought you should know."_

"But what should I do?"

_"You wait. You wait and you pray. John couldn't be in better hands, ok_? _I've got to go but I had to tell you._"

"He'll be ok though, won't he? John will be fine?" He must have sounded about ten years old, he certainly felt it. Petulant and ridiculous, wanting someone to be there and make him understand what was happening, guide him through towards a fit and healthy elder brother.  
_  
"I hope so, it's John so… yeah, he'll be fine, I'm sure he will. I've really got to go Allie, ring you soon."_

"Ok…"

The line went dead leaving Alan staring at his phone, he felt like he was already falling and he couldn't grab hold of anything to bring the feeling to a stop. He turned once more to see Ruth looking irate, Carter pulled his camera up and the red filming light flashed on indicating he'd started to film.

He walked over and dropped his phone to Ruth's outstretched hand, perhaps if he'd explain and they'd let him go without doing the jump but there was that pressure, the expectance and the harness already round his waist. They quickly attached the ankle harness and asked him questions which he nodded blindly to, biting his lip until he was sure he would taste blood.

There was the ledge; the edge, and the drop down to the river below, the bungee cord waiting to be tested. And he couldn't stop; he couldn't walk away and still not know the condition of his brother. He had to do something… anything to catch the sinking feeling in his stomach and keep his mind off the fact that he was on the outside of his family screaming to know what was going on.

He took one look at the camera, white faced and white knuckled and his fists clenched together in fear of something completely unrelated to the jump.

"See you on the other side."

He faked a smile which probably looked more like a grimace; arms outstretched as he closed his eyes and allowed his body to fall.

He didn't need to jump, his body did it for him.


	17. 5 4 3 2 Gone

The wind whipped through his hair and tore against his eyes, his t-shirt lashed against his skin and the sound of everything living faded into something like the breath of the Gods. He couldn't close his eyes, he couldn't find it in himself to so much as blink, all he could do was fall and stare longingly at the ground below which couldn't approach fast enough.

The river wound its way through the valley with a precision which cut through mountains, plant life surrounding in a thick vegetation of life powered by the vast surge of water. He could just see the camera on the top of his helmet and for a fleeting second wondered what it would look like on film, whether it could compare in any way to the reality.

Nothing mattered whilst he fell, the power of decision had been taken the moment his body had gone into free fall. The scream he may have let out was snatched from each passing breath leaving his lungs full of the oxygen which reminded his heart to keep on beating. It wasn't like a roller coaster; it wasn't even like the falling elevator ride at six flags which Gordon had forced him onto when he was sixteen.

All too soon the bungee cord pulled taught and suddenly the endless valley below was being pulled way, the trees and river shrinking back to a view from a great height. Back towards the reality which awaited him on the bridge, towards the reality which awaited him when he finally reached John's side.

The momentum of the bungee allowed him a few more plummets which grew shorter each time as the force of propulsion limited. Eventually Alan found himself hanging in the air suspending by only his feet and a couple of harnesses.

Part of him felt awakened as his heart thudded in his chest, the thrill the jump had sent through him left the hairs on his arms standing on end despite the persisting rain which had left him half blind as he blinked back his vision. A part of Alan was filled with a desperation to jump, again and again, to cling onto the lack of control he had felt for that miniscule moment, to stay away from Tracy Island altogether.

He felt his body slowly lifted. Maybe it was a pulley system pulling him back up towards the catwalk below the bridge, at least he hoped it was – imagining Fiona, the Xtreme Living jump guide, pulling him up with nothing but tanned arms and a bleached white smile did not instill much confidence.

He rolled his eyes and tried to relax, his inner voice settling the niggling doubts and his heart beginning to revert to its usual pace. After a few long minutes of being winched upwards someone was suddenly besides him on an abseiling harness, Alan reached for the guy's outreached hands as he attached Alan's body harness to his own. Soon he was righted and they were winched back up to the platform.

By the time he was back on his feet and out of the harnesses and freed from the bungee he realized that only ten minutes had passed from when he'd first jumped, he turned to Carter with a huge grin, forgetting the camera altogether.

"How crazy was that?! Ten minutes and I'm fine… amazing actually, that was unbelievable!"

"Glad you went ahead then?" Fiona came up beside him looking rather smug, "I thought you were going to chicken out, I've never seen someone so pale."

"Yeah, well…" He had just heard about John, who could blame him? "I thought about it and you know, you can't stop life… and if I didn't jump? Well, life would just go on and it would be one thing less in the world I'd done before I died."

"True. It wouldn't make a great bucket list if you wimped out."

"You better have that on film," he said, staring at Carter down the film lens, "Alan Tracy jumped off a bridge and lived to tell the tale, now somebody find this man a cheese burger, I'm starving!"

* * *

John had been scouting ahead of Scott, lighting the torch on his visor to illuminate the crumbling corridor beyond. Scott had stopped to discuss something about pulleys and weight bearers with Virgil, John was aware that he should have stayed beside his brother but he could hear something, as first it was just a scratching sound which could have been anything from the landslides slight movement to the debris settling.

He'd stood still for a moment, taking a few steps from his brother and listening again until he heard something which could not be mistaken – a child's crying. It was hard to make out which direction it was coming from, the soil and dust seemed to muffle and disguise the direction of the sound. It must have been further down the corridor, beyond where the ground had caved in from above and blocked half of the passage.

Looking around the wall of dirt illuminated by his helmet light, John could see a small but large enough gap which someone could climb through to the other side. He'd glanced back to his brother who was facing away from him talking into his comm link; John could hear the conversation through his own but ignored it, haunted by the sound of the child.

They'd have to go out, grab the equipment from Thunderbird Two and reconvene. It would take time.

He wasn't sure why he did it, something inside was screaming that it was the right thing to do, time was ticking and they had stood still too long. With one foot on the loose soil he pushed through the gap.

That was when the world seemed to cave in around him.

When the avalanche had killed their mother, Scott, Gordon, Virgil and their father had been in one of the café bars further up the mountain. They'd spent the day alternating between the children's slopes and the intermediate ones Scott and John had both attempted, finally ending up in the warm building sipping hot chocolate before they headed back down to re-join the rest of the family.

Alan had been too young to join them and their mother hadn't wanted to sit in the cold holding back a son who desperately wanted to join in, so they'd had a day for just the two of them.

John had never found out about their day, he'd never asked, the end of it outweighed whatever had happened before. John, his other brothers and his father had still been sat in that café, clutching warm mugs and eating marshmallows, grinning from ear to ear and trying to keep warm. Sirens had sounded and suddenly their world came crashing down… not literally, not for them. But for their mother and Alan?

That's how he thought it felt, placing his foot on that one bit of loose soil and disrupting the balance of all it supported. There was a roar of noise and Scott screamed his name, diving towards the gap John had tried to get through but not quick enough. The ground swallowed him and what felt like tons of dirt weighed down. It sent nightmares of memories he didn't have, his mother's death and how he was going to die. Crushed by the earth, entombed in a place that was designed to be one of safety.

He didn't see Scott's terrified eyes, that was a part that hurt most of all. He didn't get to say goodbye.

* * *

Scott heard the sound of the earth shifting and immediately muted his headset, turning reading to run his eyes desperate to find John stood beside him. But he wasn't, John was part of that movement, too close to the danger and not quick enough to get away.

"JOHN!" He dived forward, hands outstretched as he attempted to grab hold of anything he could use to reel his brother back through the gap, but his hands found only dirt which slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Stumbling back he realized the movement was only just beginning, the broken roof above rained down earth and terracotta tiles which had once been things of beauty atop a beautiful building. Virgil was shouting through the comm link, calling for them to retreat and questioning why he'd gone quiet, begging for a response.

He had no time, stumbling backwards he was lucky not to have been caught in it himself, as the heavens fell down upon them so did the sky. Opening up to show the blue hues of the approaching evening turning the tirade into a trickle which finally was halted, nothing left to fall.

At some point Scott had fallen over his own feet, eyes tearing into the wreckage to find some sign of his brother but finding none. The line of devastation had moved some ten meters, possibly destroying all in its path.

"John!" He unmuted his comm link and tried to contact his brother directly through his helmet, allowing the earth to settle as his ears craved to hear the space loving Tracy's voice. "John?!"

_"What's going on_?" Jeff's voice cut through the silence that followed Scott's shouts_, "What happened_?"

"The earth shifted again!" He stood up and stared at the settling dirt. "John's been caught up in it, I think…" He paused, replaying the scene in his mind, "I think he tried to get through."

"_Where is he_?" It was Virgil now, the sound of quick footsteps echoing down the line as he presumably made his way to Scott's position.

"I don't know! Maybe he got through… he had the damn thermal imaging device so I can't even see…"

"_Don't worry I've got one_." Footsteps sounded behind Scott and he turned to see Virgil stumbling down the corridor, a silent panic as he surveyed the scene. "Shit."

A few minutes and some repeated explanations to their father and Tintin later, they'd managed to set up some of the sound equipment near the blocked soil and were running a thermal imaging scan. The thought of getting weight baring equipment gone as they no longer had a roof to use as support.

"What do you suggest?" Virgil seemed slightly calmer than Scott considering one of their brother's lives was on the line, potentially already gone, but every now and then he looked to Scott like he had done as a child, wide eyed and fearful as he begged for guidance.

"We start digging."

* * *

After the jump was wrapped up Alan had ranted for a while to Carter's camera, they'd moved around the bridge to film from different angles and added some facts and what Alan had dubbed 'documentary mumbo jumbo'. He would have jumped again if they'd let him but the mere idea had given Ruth health and safety form flashbacks. The persisting rain had finally sent them back to the mini bus.

"Where are we heading next?" Alan questioned curiously, sat in his usual seat trying to dry the rain from his hair with his already wet t-shirt.

Ruth looked up from her phone with a frown which quickly turned into a mothering kind of smile. "Sorry Alan but that's it for now, I'm afraid that we've all got to return home at some point. We've got flights booked back to London tonight and will take our connecting flight back to the States tomorrow evening." She smiled warmly before turning back to her phone.

Alan turned to the window and watched the rain running down obscuring the view, wondering whether he actually was afraid to return home. Ruth had said it with mock joviality yet it scared him more than she could have possibly known.

He retrieved his own phone and checked to see if he had anymore messages, worried about John and increasingly concerned when he found no update, perhaps no news was good news… It seemed more likely that the Thunderbirds were still on the rescue, which would have silenced any contact Alan hoped to have had and would continue to do so until everyone was accounted for.

He logged on to one of the news apps on his cell and was for once relieved to see that there were media personnel on site reporting, though their information was vague there did not seem to be any mention of injury to any of the crew… yet. That would mean that John was still in that crumbling building which looked as though it was baring the weight of a cliff face on its walls.

The story was outlined in the usual way, a video at the top of the screen which Alan played through his headphones, and below the full article outlining what the video reported. Below that were comments from people following the story, many of them supportive and hopeful for the children still lost inside the school.

A comment stood out which took Alan by surprise, International Rescue were an organization usually supported by most of the world's powers and people, they were secretive but for good reason and most understood why. Revealing identities presented dangers to the operatives, it created a risk of terrorism and horrors Alan didn't even want to consider. If they were discovered for who they really were then International Rescue would cease to exist.

The comment read:  
_Why do they need a cloaking device? I thought the Thunderbirds were a symbol of hope to those in need._

Alan scanned through the news footage again and noticed the distinct lack of Thunderbird machines, there was obviously footage he hadn't seen or perhaps they'd reported live from their arrival, but it did appear that the Thunderbirds were cloaked. Invisible to the naked eye.

Reading further down the comments he noticed more of a similar nature:  
_If we can't see them how do we know they're saving people, they could be anyone doing anything._

What are they hiding?  
Why are they hiding?

Why the sudden need to hide the Thunderbirds?

The comments were mixed between those of hope and inspiration, but enough to make Alan consider the reasons behind his family's decision. Brains had been working on a cloaking device for years but he hadn't been aware of the success, and he hadn't expected it to have been used in such a way.

Why was his family hiding the Thunderbirds?

* * *

Gordon was sat in an English pub watching the Thunderbird's rescue play out on a widescreen TV, it was on silent but alerts played across the screen with the latest updates. There hadn't been anything but repeated news for a while, three of his brothers had gone in and were yet to come out. Until they did there wouldn't be much news to report.

Gordon too was wondering about the cloaking device, he was aware that Brains wanted to put it into use but not entirely sure why. Up in the air it was useful when passing across hostile territories unnoticed, but down on the ground and approaching rescues they'd been asked to attend, what was the need?

He'd question it later, he had a week left in London and planned to make the most of it, and International Rescue had never caused any harm so it was ridiculous for people to think they would be doing so now. The people milling around the pub didn't seem to care, they were more interested in a football match playing on another screen to spare much more than a glance towards the on-going rescue, until there was something to report it was old news.

Gordon downed the last swill of his beer and went to get another only to be halted by his phone vibrating in his pocket, he was surprised to see Alan's name flashing across the screen but not disappointed. Nowadays he craved time with the guy, he was slipping away and their old carefree relationship seemed to be to.

He headed outside and away from the jeers and cheers of the football crowd. "Hey Allie, to what do I owe the pleasure? How'd the jump go?"

Alan made a quick comment about it, swatting the topic away like it was nothing.

"I think you can give me more info than that… what?" He had been pacing in front of the building but was brought to a stop. "What do you mean John's injured? I've been watching, they haven't said… Tintin? How'd she… oh, right."

There'd been injuries on rescues before, they knew they put their lives at risk every time the klaxon sounded but not knowing John's fate after seeing the state of the school building made Gordon's stomach drop quicker than the Olympic divers he'd watched that same morning.

"So what are you doing Al?" He rubbed his eyes, asking himself the same question. "Hmm, yeah that would be great. What time will you be in? Yeah, I'll meet you at the airport, keep your phone turned on and let me know if you hear anything. Ah yeah sorry, didn't think of that, text me as soon as you land and I'll update you with any news. Ok? Bye."

With that he hung up, his mind already organizing what he'd have to do. Alan was just boarding a second plane from Johannesburg International Airport which would take him to London. It would see Alan arriving early the next morning, jet lagged and no doubt increasingly stressed as they joined to catch a connecting flight back to the States. Alan would have eleven hours in the air without any news on John followed by another seven hour flight with Gordon.

God, he hoped John was alright. The sheer irony of him being in Italy, so close yet an impossible distance for a Tracy who obviously had no connection to the Thunderbirds… it was sickening.

* * *

**Alan whumping does not happen in South Africa. **  
**I though we'd have a warmup act before the main performance.**


	18. Departures

**This chapter would have worked better joined with the following so I apologise if it seems a bit dull, thanks for the continued lovely reviews. I'm working off my main computer rather than my netbook (rest in pieces my occasionally loyal friend) so I also apologise if everything is suddenly very English, as I work from this computer I don't want to change the language settings.**

**Whoever commented that the John warm up act should have been called a "whumpup act" = kudos!**

* * *

Alan rushed through the arrivals hall in Heathrow towards his connecting flight, muttered apologies to those he hustled past were lost in the air as his thoughts ran riot. Upon landing he'd checked his phone; there were no new messages and no missed calls. Perhaps he should have been worried, or perhaps no news was good news? The unknowing of it all was driving him mad.

He half jogged through the airport, speed walking mostly as his eyes sought out the boarding gate on one of the many lit up boards he past. Correcting his path he continued at the same speed, urgency driving him on as he realised he'd lost the film crew as soon as the seatbelt light in the plane had switched off.

The plane wasn't boarding yet but he checked in, irritated by how long the woman at the desk stared between him and his passport before finally handing it back and scanning his ticket. Security was even more annoying, his belt had set off the metal detector back in Johannesburg so he should have expected it. Yet the shrill beeping sounded yet again at what was _obviously_ his belt and _not _a bomb, no he wasn't carrying anything he shouldn't, been anywhere with drugs? Nope. Probably. Hell, how should he know, everyone seemed to have drugs nowadays. Was he carrying anything for anyone? No? Maybe twenty one years of disappointment – although that didn't seem enough reason to refuse him access to a flight.

"Sir, you need to calm down. We've got to make these checks. Where are you heading today?"

Alan bit on his tongue in aggravation and to stop himself from being overly rude, the security guard was tall, slim and with glasses which slid down his nose every few seconds. He looked like the kind of guy who polished his shoes before work each morning and set them side by side in their own little spot before he went to bed at night. Pedantic, slow, frustratingly happy in his work.

"New York." Alan raised his arms to either side of himself as the guy insisted on a pat down search, the London accent seeping under the young blonde's skin all too easily. "Look, I've got a metal catch on my belt, I've taken it off and you have thus proven that I'm neither metallic nor radioactive. I'm not carrying anything I shouldn't, I'm just returning back to the US from whence I came."

He exaggerated the 'thus' and 'whence' in the hope that some Shakespearean dialect would help the guy out, he'd tried in on Parker once before but had merely received a raised eyebrow glare, much the same as the security guard was currently giving.

"I'm sorry Mr Tracy, but…"

"Alan."

"Excuse me?"

"My name… it's Alan, 'Mr Tracy' makes me feel old."

Another raised eyebrow which completed the set, the guy stared disbelievingly at him and for the first time since leaving the flight from South Africa Alan was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry ok? I just really need to get home, I had a call from one of my brothers… there was a… a family emergency. I just want to get home and know that everything is alright, I know you have a job to do and I respect that." He sighed, the weight on his shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm sorry for being such a douche, do whatever checks you need."

The guy glared at him a moment longer before resuming his pat down and checking Alan's pockets, after some long seconds he finally stood back and nodded.

"Ok, thanks for your time_ Alan_, you're free to go."

"Really?"

"Yep. These things tend to go quicker when you just let them happen." He winked and handed Alan his belt and hand luggage, he looked far too smug with himself. "Have a safe trip."

Heading into the boarding lounge Alan tried to forget the little bit of irritation he was leaving behind; all he had to do was sit and await the next flight. And then sit through that. And then possibly sit some more as they awaited news from a country he was heading away from.

Heck, if that wasn't ridiculous then he didn't know what was. Hanging his head in his hands he sent a silent prayer for John to be safe, for him to come home in one piece. The burden would have been lighter had Alan been a Thunderbird, it might have been him instead of John but at least they'd all be together, at least he'd have more of an idea as to what the hell was going on.

* * *

Scott began to dig, his gloves digging into loose soil and batting it away, there was nothing else to fall now, the roof above had gaped open leaving nothing but a darkening silent sky. The debris moved all too easily but like digging in dry sand the pile before Scott and Virgil seemed eternal, after five minutes of digging Scott looked up to a mound of debris that didn't appear to have shrank.

They persevered, their father and Tintin breaking the silence across the airwaves to encourage them on and to intermittently check the thermal imaging scans. So far nothing had showed up, the need and the fear of seeing the warm glow of John's body battled on. John_ had_to be alive.

After what felt an eternity Virgil's hands struck one of the beams which had once supported the building's structure, it crossed the blocked hallway at a slant and bore the weight of much of the debris.

Scott stopped and frowned, surveying how the beam stood.

"What is it?" Virgil glanced back, hands still shovelling the soil back and away, visor open showing a face polluted with dirt and worry.

Scott's eyes were on the gap below the beam reliving the memory, it was mostly soil unlike that above it which consisted of much more tiles and stonework. "John went through there."

* * *

Gordon checked in his luggage and headed through security, there'd been no word of John and no further updates on the rescue but Gordon knew that it could be a while. He was worried for his brother but he'd been on rescues before, he understood how time could stop to allow the proper treatment and movement of a casualty. The press were obsessing over Brain's new cloaking device, they seemed oblivious to the fact that something major and possibly life changing was happening right in front of their noses. Life changing to the Tracy's that was.

As he headed through the departure longue he easily spotted his younger brother as he felt he always would, there was something about Alan that made his entire family protective. Gordon homed into him like a ship to a lighthouse, no matter what devastation awaited on those rocky shores of Alan's emotions it would always feel like coming home. Alan had his head in his hands, his shoulders were tense and he failed to notice his brother sitting beside him until Gordon reached out.

At that point he turned, eyes catching the movement and lost in the response. Gordon met his eyes with a smile, as they wrapped their arms around one another in a familiar brotherly embrace. Though Gordon quickly realised that the familiarity was one of which he shared with his elder brothers and not with the one before him. Alan didn't hug; he didn't cling on to him the way he knew his emotions wanted to. The embrace was short lived before he pulled back and leant away.

"Hey." He smiled awkwardly, head falling back down as he played with his hands. "Any news?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll be fine, I have this feeling, you know?" If John ceased to exist then something in the world would change in a major way, heck, John was possibly one of the nicest guys in the world, if something bad happened then karma would be out of whack. Gordon was convinced that he'd know if something awful had happened.

Alan just shook his head, eyes glancing up at the boarding gate across from them. "Kinda sucks that we have no way of knowing, and here we are heading away from him. That's seriously screwed."

"Yeah, well we'll know soon enough."

He received an Alan glare, the type usually reserved for arguments with their dad or comments he considered ridiculously dumb.

"Maybe I'm channelling Scott?" Gordon offered in way of response, glad when the twenty one year old smirked and sat back.

"Yeah, he could make a book out of phrases like that." Alan chewed his lip for a moment considering the idea, "_'Where did you have it last?_' top ten irritating quotes which never help and only serve to annoy."

"I'd buy it, does it come with the ever useful 'when it's gone its gone'?"

"And a side order of 'don't wish your life away'."

Alan snorted, withdrawing his phone from a pocket and flicking through the messages. Gordon watched for a minute as Alan scrolled through messages from people he'd never heard of, they slowly backdated to a month prior, two months, he wasn't sure what Alan was looking for until he suddenly stopped. Twelve weeks prior Alan had received a text from John.  
_  
Stargazing. Love on your birthday. John x_

Gordon thought back to Alan's twenty first, how sunny it was on the island and how quiet. Scott and their father were at a Tracy Enterprises conference in New York; Gordon had spent the majority of the day lounging in the pool whilst Virgil had spent the weekend with Alan on his campus. He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone with Virgil, he knew he should have.

"We don't see him enough, do we?" He could have said it to the rest of his family, they would have known who he was referring to but it was true of John also. Because he enjoyed being up on Thunderbird Five he was sent more often than he probably should have been, he missed out on life.

Alan looked like he was about to comment about Gordon reading texts over his shoulder but then thought better of it, pocketing his cell and checking the boarding gate with a rather sad glance.

"Yeah well, it's a busy life. It's not like we're kids anymore."

"True. How did the jump go?"

He gave an honest smile of pure enjoyment. "It was amazing, you can't even imagine. It rained the entire time yet as soon as I jumped it was like nothing else mattered, the whole world stopped and there was nothing left to do but fall."

He reflected the smile, soaking up the intensity. "Would you do it again?"

"Oh, in a heartbeat. Seriously the adrenaline was insane, I'm hoping they chuck me off a plane next time" He grinned at the thought, suddenly seeming to remember something and glancing around behind him. "Oh, hang on a sec."

He jumped up and jogged away, Gordon glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Alan was talking to a small group of people sat by the entrance which he seemed to know. Gordon smiled and offered a small wave as they looked his way, Alan pointing out his elder brother before emerging himself into whatever conversation had sprung.

Alan's comment brought back the conversation he'd had with John, Scott and Virgil about Alan's contract. Scott had contacted News International the following day and talked his way into knowing Alan's location and the itinerary of the trip, it had made them all feel better to know exactly where he was at any given time but the feeling of loss was still greater than anything else.

They'd agreed to try and talk him out of signing the full contract for the television season, the thought of their youngest brother jumping of a bridge had sent a plummeting feeling to their own stomachs, the thought of further excursions brought nothing but dread.

Hearing that Alan had enjoyed the jump and was already hoping for more was not welcomed news, yet then again… the kid looked so happy, for that short moment his eyes had sparkled and the old once lost smile had overtaken the shadowing doubt over John's condition. For that fleeting moment the real Alan was there, the Alan Gordon knew before International Rescue, before their father had messed up.

He sighed, folding his arms over himself as he tried to get his head around what the heck he was meant to do.

* * *

Scott had abandoned his gloves, they were wearing through and as soon as a gap had appeared under the fallen beam he'd become almost frenzied in his movement of the soil. They'd been at it for two long hours, the sky above darkening to the extent that they now worked from the lights on their helmets. There was progress though, and there was hope.

Beyond the gap underneath the fallen beam was an air pocket of some type, upon shining light into it they could see the corridor further along, much of it covered in a layer of dirt but otherwise remarkably unscathed. But John wasn't anywhere to be seen.

John wasn't under the fallen debris.

* * *

_**Coming soon to a Thunderbirds fic near you...**_  
**Jeff and Alan in the same room.**  
**The curious case of the missing Thunderbird.**  
**A case of betrayal?  
Media backlash on two accounts.  
Postcards from far away.  
And more...**

**Stay tuned and please, review ;)**


	19. The Sacrifice

"Then where the hell is he?"

Virgil shone his light through the gap beneath the fallen beam, the corridor beyond showed no signs of life.

"He must have made it through…" Scott stared in disbelief, relieved but also irritated that John wasn't stood awaiting his own rescue. All that worry and dread suddenly hung in the air like a prom queen without a date; somewhat awkward and still not completely clear as to what had happened. "He must be ok."

Jeff's voice rang through the comm link, doubt edging his tone. "Run another thermal scan, if he's ok then why hasn't he responded to calls?"

"He was literally engulfed in the debris, he may have a head injury?" Scott pulled tattered gloves over equally battered hands. "I don't think it's worth another scan though, we're at the stage where if he was here we'd have seen him. Virgil?"

"Yeah I'm with Scott on this. John must have followed the corridor down. We're still missing civilians, perhaps he found them."

"True." Jeff was torn over what he should request them to do; it was hard not being on the ground surveying the situation up close, stepping in Scott made the decision for him.

"We'll head through; the beam is supporting any remaining debris which we haven't yet shifted. If there are casualties back there then there's no point in delaying, the one thing we could do with," he glanced at his hands, "apart from new gloves, is an extra man on the ground."

"Alright." Jeff let out an irritated sigh. "Your extra man on the ground will have some explaining to do."

* * *

Once their flight finally touched down in New York Alan bid farewell to his small News International crew, shared smiles and laughter passed before he joined Gordon at the arrivals lounge with the returned feeling of dread in each of their stomachs. The stress of not knowing about their family's current escapade continued but hours in the air brought with it a stoic acceptance; it was a waiting game they couldn't hope to win.

They spent a long hour sipping coffee in one of the chain run cafes, Alan running through answer phone messages he'd never picked up. Most of the messages were from before he'd made the jump, quite a few from Scott varying between concern and irritation at his current escapade. Tintin had left a couple mentioning the possibility of her taking from leave from the island and coming to see Alan, that made him smile. It felt like forever since he'd seen her.

Eventually Alan and Gordon left the airport and headed the Tracy Enterprises suite which sat on top of Tracy Towers in New York, usually frequented by Scott or their father on work trips.

John didn't really work for Tracy Enterprises, he received a wage but mostly that seemed to serve as a silent apology for the amount of time he spent up in space and away from home. Gordon had often joked that the G-forces John experiences exiting and re-entering the earth's atmosphere would take inches off his height and that the money was a payoff for the damage caused to his body. John could use it to invest in shoes with increasingly high heels so that no one noticed how much he was shrinking.

It probably didn't help that Gordon had surpassed John in height just as his space career had first taken flight, not that the young stargazer ever seemed to mind the jibes. He was far too good natured about the whole thing which made Gordon's teasing mute.

Virgil had friends in New York so when visiting often frequented their homes through invitation, he enjoyed company and working around the Tracy Enterprises employees opposed to sitting alone with endless paper work, the type Scott and their father found an unusual amount of pleasure in.

Alan and Gordon took a cab from the airport, the early morning did not leave the streets as quiet nor calm as they would have expected so the journey took as long as it needed to plus the added suspense of queues of traffic. It was time though, and the more time that past surely mean the closer they were to hearing about John. Their emotional fate rested in the hands of a clock.

A few photographers and reporters awaited them outside Tracy Towers. Gordon had no idea how they were even aware of their arrival but he was used to their familiar stalking antics so didn't think much of it, the press were leeches and would suck a story out of thin air if they had to. Exiting the cab he strolled right on past and into the building as though the shouts and flashes of the photographers didn't exist.

Alan exited the cab and stopped though. Immediately they pounced on him, more interested in the youngest Tracy than the fleeing Gordon who for a moment was slightly insulted. It was only when he saw the horror in Alan's eyes and heard the questions about their father, the silence between the family, and Alan's decision to greet the world in the form of a TV show, it was only then that the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he rushed to retrieved his shell shocked brother.

Alan was tempted to reply but thought better of it, shaking his head and crossing the threshold into the building, it may as well have been a line of salt keeping out demons as it had an immediate effect. When the doors swung shut silent descended and order returned.

"Why the hell are they here?" Alan hissed, luggage pulled rather harshly behind him and towards the elevator.

"Morning Mr Tracy, and…" The guy at the small reception desk amidst a sea of marble floor frowned, "Mr Tracy."

"Hey Mick." Gordon nodded in passing, relieved he didn't have to flash ID. He'd come in a few months prior when they'd been trialling a new receptionist, long story short she hadn't realised who he was and then refused to believe him after he'd pulled out his driver's licence, insurance card and passport. She was lucky to make it to the end of the day.

"It's Alan." The youngest Tracy prodded the elevator call button a few times, eyes fixed on the small arrow above the day which signalled its descent from a higher floor.

"Sorry sir?"

"Alan. My name's Alan." He had flashbacks to the irritating conversation he'd had with the airport security guy and bit his lip to refrain from having the same discussion. Instead he gestured back towards the entrance with a frown. "How'd they get here?"

Mick was taken aback by Alan's tone, he was the one Tracy he was vastly unaware of and who he'd not yet dealt with. The contrast between Alan and his brother's was startling. "The press? They just turned up half an hour ago."

"Yeah, but why?"

Gordon sighed, taking Alan's arm and guiding him to the open elevator door.

"That's the kind of thing they do, call it witchcraft or powers greater than the FBI, they just do it. Come on." He flashed Mick an apologetic look as the elevator doors closed.

Hitting the button to the penthouse suite he keyed in the passcode and scanned in his thumbprint, their father went above and beyond when it came to security.

"They shouldn't have been there at all." Alan muttered.

"What's with the sudden press obsession? I thought you loved them."

"We had a deal…" He rubbed his eyes, leaning back on the wall and letting out an exasperated breath. "I had a deal with News International, they promised to get the press to back off."

"And you're surprised because?"

"They promised."

Gordon huffed, taken aback by the hurt in his brother's eyes. "Sorry Al, but the word of a newspaper isn't the worthiest of things. Maybe they added an expiry date to that promise."

He glanced at Alan and was truly surprised to see how mortified he looked; he hadn't thought the words yelled outside the building would have meant anything to him. They rolled off Gordon's back like water off a duck.

"Why does it matter anyway?" Gordon continued. "They're only paps, ignore them and they'll have nothing on you."

"They always have something on me, that's the problem."

The elevator shuddered to a halt and they stepped out into the open plan living area of the penthouse suite. Alan headed straight for the kitchen area with the wheels of his luggage rumbling along behind him, one arm waving into the air as he complained.

"They knew I'd left the island before anyone saw me, they knew I'd been drinking before that gas station clerk sold them his story, and they knew I'd ditched Scott and John before even they did. You explain that to me and then maybe I'll rest easier knowing that the press are camping outside every door I pass."

He abandoned his case and began riffling through the cupboards which were forever full in case any of the Tracy's arrived without notice.

"Ok, you've got me there." Gordon sagged down onto the sofa. He'd barely slept on the flight over and had the onset of a headache. "Hey, are there any pills about?"

Glancing up over the cabinet Alan's anger shifted into a look sympathy. "Is your head worse?" He didn't wait for a reply, though it took him another minute of rustlingbefore he hustled over to Gordon, glass of water in one hand d headache pills in the other.

"Two of them." He instructed, returning to his previous search. It didn't take him long to find a bottle of whisky and one of their father's crystal glasses, usually kept for guests or special occasions. Not Alan's small acts of defiance he probably thought went unnoticed.

"You can't drink that Al."

"Why not?" Alan paused, eyes wavering between his brother and the bottle.

"Why not? Well for one it's a ten year old malt." He offered his best glare but it was lost on his brother who merely stared back dumbly. "Do you really want to have that in your system when we finally get word on John? Think about it."

It wasn't the only reason; Alan and alcohol did not mix.

Alan bought the reasoning though, returning the bottle to the cupboard and opting for a glass, (a fine crystal glass), of water.

Shaking his head Gordon swallowed the pills and sat back, eyes closing as he contemplated the worst. He was usually the positive Tracy, he could give John a run for his money on that but the last day had felt like years, especially in Alan's company.

He loved the kid, adored him, heck they all did. But Alan was complex; he could be the friendliest guy in the world but also one of the most selfish. He'd spent the last eight hours complaining, mainly about how unfair things were and how once again he was being left out. He never once questioned Gordon's feelings or how _he_ was coping.

He had yet to enquire about the Olympics, the events Gordon had seen and those he would miss. Alan had spoken about the jump for a long time, eyes lighting up with excitement and his wishes for further life threatening work.

John could have been in a life or death situation yet there was Alan rattling on about swimming with sharks, not to mention the media pool he'd willingly thrown himself into. And then, to top it all off, he had the nerve to complain that they were following him.

Gordon sighed and opened his eyes as Alan crashed besides him, feet finding their way onto the glass coffee table.

"What are Brains and Fermat doing?"

It was a good question, the father and son had been up on Five together covering for John and saving Scott from a fate he felt was worse than having to sit through Gordon's latest rendition of Lady Gaga's _The Edge of Glory_.

"System checks? I've no idea, they get pretty obsessive up there. Scientist kids in a robot candy shop."

Alan smirked. "No doubt Brains is rewiring the entire station."

"Contacting aliens perhaps."

"Eating moon cheese."

"Writing his memoirs."

Alan leant back and chuckled. "And Fermat?"

"He'll be sampling some of that delicious space food." He pulled a face which reflected exactly what he thought of it. "Dried strawberries, powdered milk and cardboard chocolate."

The food they had up in Five was designed to be nutritious, not tasty. Even John complained about it, perhaps that was why they all appreciated Ohana's cooking back home so much.

"What's it like?" Alan asked, head resting on Gordon's shoulder in a rare instant of closeness brought on no doubt by fatigue.

"The food? It sucks."

"No, space, being up on Five. What's it like?"

Letting out a long breath Gordon considered it, he wasn't a particular fan but he could see small attractions... well, the view was pretty cool. "It's ok I guess, if you like complete silence, no escape and constant night time."

Alan snorted in soft laughter. "Sounds a hoot."

"We should send you and dad up there."

That shut him up, he raised his head to glare up at the smirking Olympic Tracy but Gordon had his eyes shut.

"And why is that?"

Forcing his heavy eyelids open he peered down at his brother.

"In space no one can hear you scream."

* * *

John looked up into his brother's surprised eyes, a mixture between a glare and utter disbelief marring their brows. He knew he was in trouble.

"Hey…. It seems I found the remaining civilians." He glanced behind himself to the group of children and adults huddled by one of the supporting walls which didn't seem to have sustained any major damage. Their faces dirtied and tired, a look of relief shared between them.

Scott continued to glare whilst Virgil hustled past; a quick pat on John's back affirming that he was glad that he was ok before he headed to tend those who needed medical attention, his first priority was the people, his words to John would come later. Scott's gaze remained as he slowly reached up and tapped his helmet with a solitary finger.

John blanched. "Oh, right." It wasn't often that he was intimidated by his brother, they were so close in age that he could usually read Scott like a book and act accordingly. Yet the look Scott was giving left John with a resounding feeling of guilt. "My comm link severed when I fell through, I've been trying to revive it but my helmet got pretty bashed and with all the residue dust and dirt in the air…"

"Dad asks why you didn't wait for us."

Scott's tones were hushed so prying ears didn't hear. Whilst on the ground Scott was John and Virgil's commanding officer, he'd signalled that they should pull back and John had deliberately disobeyed.

"I could hear a child crying."

It was a simple response but one he felt justified his actions, he would forever be led by his heart. Every fibre of his being had taken him down that corridor towards the heart breaking sound and he couldn't have said that he wouldn't do it again. Besides, Virgil and Scott had taken hours to get through, if John had waited any longer the worse could have happened and the only person he'd have to blame would have been himself.

"I took a call." He stepped forward so he could see the true emotion in his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry for the worry you must have had but.."

"Worry?!" Scott threw a look over to where Virgil had begun administering first aid, oblivious to Scott's temper boiling over but probably expecting it. "We thought you were dead John."

There was that silence again, seeping over them like silent shadows of something which went beyond International Rescue, beyond Tracy Enterprises and deep into the crevasses of what it meant to be a brother. What it meant to lose one of your own.

For a great deal of the time it was an unspoken fear they strived to leave unaddressed, they'd lost their matriarch, since then they had strived to save others from having to deal with such raw emotion and anguish. In doing so they risked everything that remained.

The silence spoke harshly but with a truth they couldn't bear to hear.

"I'm sorry."

"Never mind, we'll discuss it later."

And that was it, swept under the shadows as they clung onto the fact that they were ok. They didn't need reminding of what loss felt like.

The rescue was wrapped up fairly quickly after that, they recovered a full head count of lives and avoided death, leaving the building to the local rescue teams to safeguard and salvage.

A few reporters were sniffing around for a story; a few quick words were shared before they started questioning Brain's cloaking device which was in operation for the first time. Scott wasn't sure how best to explain it for promised a statement from the Thunderbirds at a later date, irritated that people were already questioning their motives despite the fact that they'd just saved a school full of staff and pupils, risking their lives in the process.

Once they were back in the air he opened a channel to Gordon, he figured he should update him on their progress. He was aware that Tintin had called Alan (not that he was happy about it, the kid at that point hadn't needed to know) when the problems with John had started and that he'd joined forces with Gordon. The pair was currently in New York awaiting news.

The sound of the phone line rang out, eventually clicking onto voicemail forcing Scott to leave a message.

_Hey, it's Scott. Call me when you get this, I'll try Alan's phone, if he picks up ignore this.  
_  
He hung up and tried Alan's number, chewing his lip as a plan formed in his mind. He glanced at Virgil who was co-piloting besides him.

"Do what you've got to do." Virgil smiled. It was uncannily eerie how he could read Scott's thoughts like that.

Unfortunately the call rang to voicemail again so he was forced to leave another message.  
_  
Hey Al, it's Scott. Somewhat surprised that neither you nor Gordon are available… I'll ring in a bit, just be aware that Dad will be heading your way, we need to stick together as a family so don't contemplate doing a runner._

Whatever Virgil thought Scott was going to say had been lost, his co-pilot was staring at him with a look of disbelief edging into a frown. It wasn't like Scott was lying to Alan, their family did need to stick together… they were Tracy's and that's what Tracy's did. He kept his gaze firmly on the open skies before him and continued with the message.  
_  
Stay where you are, keep a cool head on those shoulders and we'll see you soon. Bye._

Finally he turned; Thunderbird Two was on auto pilot and had around an hour of airtime before they'd have to take back control to begin the landing procedures upon their descent to the island. From there they'd pick up their father and head to New York.

"That was cruel." Virgil chided, arms folding over himself as sad smile played on his lips. "On dad_ and_ Alan."

"Well they need to talk. Dad will go willingly, Alan just need some guidance."

"And that was guidance was it?"

"Think of it as persuasion… of sorts. Once he learns that John is alright he may even be open to some relationship repairs."

Virgil scoffed. "Or he may realise who was behind the devious planning and seek revenge."

"Better revenge than avoidance."

Their discussion was disrupted by an incoming call, Scott debated ignoring it but Virgil quickly accepted before further harm could be done, he wasn't a fan of Scott's methods.

"Hey Gords, Scott just left you a message."

Gordon's voice filled the cockpit, a mixture of worry and dread edging his tone. "_I must have dozed off, long flight and all. How's John? What's going on_?"

"John's fine." Virgil smiled; glad he could deliver good news. "We'll explain fully later but basically he made a literal mountain out of a molehill. He has a few bumps and bruises but so do we, he just worried us by pulling a disappearing act and losing contact for a few hours."

Gordon breathed heavily down the line, perhaps a sigh of relief. "_Is that it?"_

"Yep, and he is paying for it believe me." Scott muttered. "Sorry for the worry Gords, we didn't know that Tintin had called Alan until we'd finished and by then it was too late to stop you heading home."

"_No worries, I'm just glad he's ok_." He sounded tired but much relieved. "_I met Alan at Heathrow and we got the flight back together. We're in New York right now but we'll head back home tomorrow. Though to be honest with you when Alan hears this I'm not sure whether he'll be joining me_."

"Where's Alan now?" Virgil questioned. He hadn't spoken to him for ages; they were due a catch up so the sadness he felt at hearing that Alan wouldn't want to come home was a deep one.

"_Fast asleep_." Gordon chuckled dryly. "_It's a good thing there's no marker pens are here, he's practically begging for a moustache. Anyway, I'll let him know everything when he wakes up, I don't think he's slept since his jump_."

"How'd that go?"

"_He loved it a bit too much if you ask me, he's already talking about his next trip_."

Scott cut in, his white lie suddenly turning to the dark side as he envisaged Alan leaping from that damned bridge suspended by nothing more than a fancy elastic band.

"Gordon, can you do me a massive favour? In the name of saving Alan and Dad's relationship and stopping Al's idiocy trail."

There was a pause before Gordon replied. "_I'm listening_."

"Can you perhaps not tell him about John… or our current phone call?"

"_What?! He's worried sick, why the hell would I…"_

"Because I'm going to bring Dad over."

"_Oh. Right_."

* * *

**Oh dear.**  
**Whose side are you on?**  
**Review ;)**


	20. Morning Madness

**I have the next chapter half written, it was meant to be with this one but I think I may have thrown away my notes in a fit of cleaning rage and then had laser eye surgery. What they don't tell you is you'll have a few weeks of varying eyesight and not not actually achieve perfect eyesight for weeks/months. Reading and writing is proving difficult and as my specs no longer give clarity I am having to wait it out.**  
**Thankfully most of this was written before then, I've gone through a few times but if there are any mistakes please blame bad eyesight. **  
**I promise you, next chapter get's exciting, Alan whump is on its way...**

* * *

Alan awoke to find himself in bed in one of the many rooms the overly large penthouse had to offer, he didn't have his own room like Scott and his father so was greeted by a decoration and style more fitting of a hotel. He remembered dozing on the sofa and presumed that Gordon had moved him, though they were both of similar heights so he dreaded to think of just how exactly he'd been moved.

Sitting up in bed Alan saw light edging the curtains, a quick glance at his phone told him it was late afternoon. Getting any sleep that night would be a bitch, thank you jet lag and thank you stress. Letting out a grown he rolled over so his legs hung over the edge, toes testing whether the room was warm enough to make the abandonment of a warm quilt acceptable. It came as a shock to find that the vinyl floor was heated; it seemed such an unnecessary expense for a room which probably spent most of the time unused.

Jeff was a billionaire; perhaps the 'more money than sense' thing was true. There were kids going cold each night and a room sat empty in New York with heated flooring.

Alan shook himself and padded out of the bedroom, he knew he was nit-picking issues out of thin air yet since his short but adrenaline filled trip he'd questioned things. What was unimportant, how lucky he actually was. Yet those feeling were tied with ones of inadequacy, of being a shadow when compared to his family. He was proving himself to them, making them proud of the man he was growing into.

Money was nice, cosy feet over vinyl flooring was nice, but it wasn't life. There was more to it than that. The adrenaline burst which sent his heart beating like hummingbirds, the world and all of its diversities and beauty. The people.

He made his way across the lounge to the kitchen and put the kettle on, thoughts elsewhere as he gazed unseeingly across the breakfast island. Not noticing the added luggage on the couch.

Alan's thoughts were turned to ones of his mother, her warm smile and love filled embraces. Even back then he'd been a disappointment in Jeff's eyes, but not hers, never hers.

Sometimes when the darkness crept over his thoughts and blinded his emotions he felt sure that he could still feel her last act of love; arms wrapped around him, shielding him from whatever life threw his way. Guiding him into the sunlight and away from the harsh words, missed appointments and disappointments he faced.

He poured himself a coffee he envisaged John stood at home nursing one of his own, a memory so simple that he was surprised at its strength. Early morning, his hair stuck every which way, a yawn blinking him to life.

Everything about John seemed calm, they'd rarely had disagreements but when they had Alan always left feeling oddly guilty, even when he was still sure that he was the one in the right. It was even worse when John gave up and simply agreed with him, leaving Alan's anger undirected and powerless, it always dissipated, you just couldn't stay mad at the guy.

Alan knew that his brothers had been called to a landslide and the thought terrified him, various scenarios running chaos through his mind. Sometimes it was dirt falling, entombing his brother in suffocating inescapable depths. Sometimes it was snow.

When the avalanche had claimed the life of their mother and destroyed the cabin where Alan had been trapped silence had descended along with a complete blinding darkness. He'd had no idea as to whether she was alive, only that she wouldn't answer him and that the longer they remained beneath the snow and debris the colder her body became. It wasn't a memory easily forgotten.

Perhaps John had been caught in the landslide, buried and awaiting rescue. Alone.

The shrill ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts, piercing the air with a tune he'd yet to reprogram. Glancing at the screen it read '_Georgina Clark'_, the woman he'd spoken to some weeks prior after he'd walked into their offices. Since signing the contract he'd not seen or heard anything from her so the call was unexpected.

All the same he answered and tried to infuse his voice with some energy, catching a yawn before it destroyed his greeting.

"Alan Tracy, good morning." He'd never get used to answering the phone like that but had long ago learnt from his father that answering '_yeah what do you want?_' was not the best of opening lines and not the way to start a positive conversation.

"_Hi Alan it's Georgina. We need to discuss the outlines of your contract and how it's been broken, and thus the stance we as a company wish to take_." Any positivity in the conversation quickly died.

"I'm sorry?" He frowned, still blinking away sleep as he abandoned his coffee. "What do you mean broken?"

"_You really need to come in so we can discuss it, is there a good time for you to do so_?" Her voice was sharp, a note of anger hanging on each word.

"Yeah… I should be able to tomorrow. I don't understand what you're saying."

"_The contract, Alan. The one you signed? You broke it by speaking to other journalists outside of News International. We strictly ruled this out…"_

"Hang on." He cut her off mid-sentence. "I haven't spoken to anyone; I've only just got back." His mind was reeling, trying to catch onto what she was implying.

"_Alan, there's multiple stories outlining conversations with your family in today's papers."_ Her voice wavered, uncertainty lingering as she weighed up the confusion in his voice. "_Are you saying you didn't supply these?"_

"Conversations? I haven't seen them in ages, if they're printing conversations then they're making them up."

She fell quiet, obviously not expecting his response, her own left him dumbstruck. "_Did you steal one of your father's jets when you left Tracy Island to head to the states?"_

How would anyone know that? No one knew… except his family.

"I… how would anyone know that?!" Anger engulfed him. "What else have they said? Where the hell would they get that from?!" He growled down to line, head spinning as he tried to work it out. "I haven't spoken to any journalists at all, I mean yeah, sure, there were some outside the building last night but I didn't say a word. God damn parasites… no offence Georgina but why the hell would I tell them something like that?"

"_I just presumed…"_ She trailed off, words losing momentum as she found herself as lost as Alan. "_If you didn't tell them then who did? Your family…?"_

"No." He shook his head and went back into the lounge, crashing on the sofa and glaring at the ceiling. "They'd never do that, the one rule we've always lived by is never talk to the press."

"_But you did_." The words hung in the air cruelly, mocking him as the true horror of what he'd potentially done sank in. Speaking to the press had meant to have had the opposite effect. "_One of the stories is outlining a relationship you may or may not have with a certain young woman by the name of… Tintin?"_ She said the name slowly, perhaps the papers lay before her shining their betrayal for all to see.

"How would they even know about her?" Alan spoke the words to himself more than Georgina, fear leaving the hairs on his arms raised. "Look, I need to read these articles. I have no idea where they've got these stories from but believe me when I say that I did not break the contract, I am not in a relationship with Tintin and yes, maybe I stole one of the jets but no one knew about it! I haven't breathed a word about that to anyone; I'm still awaiting my father's reaction to the whole thing. You really think I'd tell a journalist before I'd spoken to him?"

The line remained quiet for some long seconds as she considered his words, finally she let out a long held breath before replying. "_Come by my office tomorrow, we'll go through the offending papers and discuss what can be done about the whole thing. If, as you say, you weren't involved with this, then we need to figure out who was."_

"You do believe me. Right?"

"_Tomorrow morning Alan, ok?"_

"Yeah. I'll be there. Bye."

Standing up Alan sniffed and rubbed at his eyes angrily, wishing he'd remained in bed and begged for sleep to erase away what had quickly turned into a rubbish start of the day. He wanted someone to tell him that things would be ok, that John would be just fine, that these articles were lucky guesses, that none of this came back to him

As his fluttering heart calmed he found himself taking in the room around him, his coffee which lay abandoned on the kitchen counter, the glass which he'd used last night abandoned on the coffee table, Tintin's bag on the couch…

His eyes fixed upon it and a frown creased his face. It was her mother's old luggage, decorated in a nineteen sixties motif of bright flowers that couldn't be mistaken for anyone else's. A light blue cardigan lay abandoned nearby, shaped as though recently worn yet the owner was nowhere to be seen.

Alan immediately headed towards it, confusion marring any doubt as he scanned the room. Was that Scott's bag in the corner?

There was a click as a door opened and footsteps followed voices, before Alan had a chance to work out what was going on his family stood before him. All of them, whispered conversations dying as they saw him, oblivious to the conversation he'd just had.

His father stood up front. Virgil and Scott besides him, and behind? Tilting his head in confusion Alan saw Tintin and John besides one another.

John.

He stumbled back, one hand held to his head and one seeking the support of the couch, eyes wide and desperate to understand, wondering for a fleeting seconds whether he'd wake up. It took him a moment of composition but in five long strides he was past his father's piercing glare and had his arms wrapped around John, head buried in his shoulder as the dam holding back his emotions burst. Tears soaked into his brother's shirt, pristine white and looking freshly pressed.

Alan couldn't think about the how or why right then, for that one moment all that mattered was that John was alive, the beating of his heart pressed against Alan's chest. Relief washed through the flood gates and gripped with a fiery need to feel his brother alive and well. The thoughts of losing him had been unbearable, the weight of the last few weeks suffocating.

John wrapped his arms around his younger brother and planted a kiss on the top of his head, a warm true smile familiar and kind.

"Hey." He whispered, trying to pull back without success. "I'm fine Allie, everything's fine."

Alan didn't ever want to let go, he wanted to be a child again when things had felt safe. When his biggest worry had been whether he could go out and play with his brothers, when unfair had been the denial of an extra cookie.

He could feel the silence in the room; it stood thick and heavy amidst his muffled sobs of relief. They were all there… without warning or explanation. They must have gone from Italy, home, and then over to New York. Hours must have past and yet his phone hadn't rang, there'd been no relief down the line, no understanding.

Standing back, body shaking, he still couldn't take his eyes off his brother. The sorrow was brewing; evolving into something he'd never been able to control.

"What's going on? When did you… how…" He swiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "What the hell is this?"

* * *

**How mean.**

**Next chapter...**  
**The long awaited Jeff/Alan conversation.**  
**Alan learns how running from your problems can be bad for your health.**


	21. The Resolution

**111 followers + 21 chapters = 2331 reviews? Nope.  
I like this chapter. Do you? ¬_¬**

Apologies to Alan, for what has been and what will be.  


* * *

John took Alan into the pent house office; the kid was as white as a sheet and was literally shaking from the shock of seeing them all there. John had not been in favour of leaving his youngest brother in the dark about their arrival but had allowed the peace keeping side of him to let it pass. He now knew that it had been a mistake, Alan may have been many things but when it came to family the kid would cross the world and back just to see a brother with a mild concussion. This was one situation he would never have run from.

The shock Alan had been left with was quickly morphing into apparent anger so John had quickly guided the younger man away from anyone he could easily damage with careless words, calm needed to ensue before anything.

The office was small but the walls were filled with framed photos of the family, pot plants sat by the window and the desk was kept spotlessly clean and without a computer – whoever was using it usually brought their own laptop or used computers down in Tracy Towers. The sash windows looked out across New York and the sky above, streaming afternoon light into the room and highlighting the shadows under Alan's eyes.

They sat in a couple of chairs in front of the desk; John perched on the edge whilst Alan slumped back and seemed to sink in to himself. He had that look in his eyes, the one that thought things over too much and jumped to conclusions, the look which made Alan a loose cannon with his emotions.

"There was a cave in on the rescue site Al, I fell through and lost contact with the guys. They thought I'd been trapped under the debris but I fell through to the other side and went ahead to help any casualties." John leant forward and gripped one of Alan's hands which felt cold in his own, explaining their actions seemed the best way to go. "It took a long time but when Scott and Virgil finally got to me we had to then deal with the civilians and the rest of the operation. We didn't know that Tintin had contacted you until we were back on board Two, and by then we were heading home anyway so figured we'd debrief before heading over here to explain to you what had happened."

He took a deep breath, desperate for the fear in his brother's eyes to dissipate. Blue eyes met blue and Alan blinked back the understanding, eyes scanning John's face for any sign of injury but finding none.

"I thought maybe you'd…" Alan closed his eyes, taking time to bite back words which could only cause further hurt, "I thought the worse."

"I know, and we're all so sorry to both you and Gordon. I can't imagine what it must have been like waiting."

"No. You can't." He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees and he hung his head in his hands. "But you're ok, right? And that's what matters." There was anger there and a sense of betrayal but he held it back too well, he seemed almost rehearsed in the action which hurt John more than he'd dare say. Deep breaths calmed his nerves and held back tears which had portrayed his true feelings, only the tracks which had made their down his face bore witness to them.

"Yeah, we've all got our signature rescue bumps and bruises but that goes with the job. Apart from that we're fine." John bit his lip, mulling over how he could lighten the mood. "How was your trip? Gordon says you seemed pretty stoked about it."

"You've spoken to Gordon?"

Ok, wrong choice of words. Alan didn't need to know that Gordon had known long before himself, another mistake in a ridiculously careless plan. "Yeah, we arrived a few hours ago but didn't want to wake you. He took himself back to bed, seems like you've both got some jetlag to catch up on huh?" Alan may have slept but he didn't look at all rested. "So, how was the jump?"

For whatever reason Alan didn't pursue the reason why Gordon had known before him, or the reason that they hadn't woken him. He just shook his head and sighed, leaning back in the chair and gazing out of the window. It was uncharacteristic and oddly disconcerting, their younger brother had aged and they'd barely noticed.

"It was alright."

"Alright? You jumped off a bridge and it was '_alright_'?" John gave a short snort of laughter which he didn't quite feel. "Will you be jumping off anything else or was that a onetime thing?"

"I'd do it again," Alan hummed, a smile flickering across his lips before he frowned at something, "not sure I'll be doing the season though."

"What do you mean? I thought you were really looking forward to it. I've only heard from Gordon and Tintin but they both said you were keen to get the ball rolling, even if it does take a few weeks of form filling and vaccinations…"

Alan sighed again, eyes meeting John's as that fiery anger that had been missing from the conversation arose. "Some of the papers printed a bunch of stuff about me and now News International thinks I've been speaking to other journalists." He rose and leant back against the desk, hands rubbing tired eyes as he gazed at the wall of photos unseeing. "I'd feel much better about it if what they'd written wasn't partially true."

"Huh? What did they say?"

"The papers or News International? The editor of News International was pretty pissed, I've got to go in to see her tomorrow and just hope that she'll believe me. I haven't seen the papers yet but they printed some story about me stealing one of dad's jets when I left the island." Alan shook his head angrily, fists gripping the edge of the desk.

"How would they know that?" The papers often wrote things about the Tracys but for the most part it was made up, yet no one had known about Alan's departure of the island or his mode of transport. "You haven't said a word?"

"No!" He snapped, standing up and glaring at John before his shoulders sagged and he sank back into his chair. "All that I said was in that one article."

Jeff choose the wrong time to poke his head around the door, eyes scanning both his son's faces before coming in and closing it with a loud click behind him, apparently too impatient to await the end of John and Alan's conversation.

"Give us five minutes Dad, we're catching up."

John tried to catch his dad's eyes, in which he felt sure he could convey his meaning, yet Jeff had eyes only for Alan who in turn stared back with a cold disdain, it was a recipe for disaster. Tired, jet lagged, stressed Alan versus an equally tired, worn out Jeff. A man who had spent the last few weeks waiting for the Alan bomb to drop, expecting the kid to mess up, waiting… He did not need to know about News International, not then, not when their relationship was already stretched to its limit.

John reached out and shook Alan's knee, diverting his attention and giving the warmest smile he could muster. "It's so good to see you Allie, we need to sort out someway where we can all spend time together and really catch up. None of these passed on messages, yeah?"

Alan smiled weakly back but nodded, lips wavering as he studied his brother's face.

"You're really ok? No secret head injury or anything?"

"He's fine." Jeff let out a long breath and passed them, heading to the seat behind the desk which he sank into. "We'll be having words about protocol but I'm pretty sure he'll survive. Right John?"

"FAB." He grinned, standing and brushing his jeans down before looking between the two. "Am I alright to leave you to it?"

Surprisingly it was Alan who answered, his head nodding slowly before he put more feeling into it. "Yeah we'll be fine; I guess we have a lot to talk about."

John paused in the doorway, nervous about leaving yet knowing he had to give them time without anyone interfering. Perhaps Tracy Enterprises and International Rescue was getting in the way, they really did need to spend more time together but the possibilities of doing so were limited, especially without Alan at home.

"Play nice." With a wink he headed out, fingers mentally crossed for some resolution.

Jeff's attention had been on Alan ever since he'd entered the room, he'd spent weeks thinking through what he wanted to say, he'd played countless arguments through in his mind and had thought of a thousand responses to Alan's possible reasons for what he had done, but when it came down to seeing his youngest son sat before him, a deflated image of a man, he could not remember a single word.

"I'm so sorry Alan, we really messed up this time."

Alan ran a hand over his face trying to wipe away the apparent exhaustion, eyes taking in the room before falling back on his father. There were words waiting to be shouted, heartache screaming to be understood, but like Jeff he found them distant and at that moment they just couldn't be grasped.

"I'm sorry to, I really screwed up."

They sat in silence as minutes ticked by, the warm office comfortable, and the photos on the wall a reminder of why they were here, John's empty chair a reminder of what was really at stake; Family.

"How've you been?" Jeff finally asked, he'd heard small details on Alan's travels but none of them knew enough to be settled with. "Are you staying in New York now or will you be heading off again?"

"I'm not too sure." Maybe his response answered both questions. "I hadn't really thought much past seeing John alive and well, you've kind of thrown me just appearing here like this."

Jeff bit back on his tongue, he wanted to mention the fact that Alan hadn't been picking up any of his calls so he'd really had no way of informing him. His brothers of course were a different matter, but Jeff did not feel guilty for his actions.

"It's a good thing us Tracy's have healthy hearts… listen, Alan, we need to sit down and replay that conversation we had. The one where you upped and left, where things were said..."

"I know which you mean." He didn't need reminding. "Will the outcome be any different?"

Jeff chewed his lip, his stance on the subject hadn't changed and neither had his sons. Well, perhaps they were opening their minds to the idea of Alan being an operative for International Rescue, but when it came down to putting the idea into action none of them were at all keen. Alan was the last remaining link to their mother, he was a childhood which they all felt of as home, and he was their base point, the safety amidst a world of chaos.

"Maybe we should sit down as a family, as much as I want to make this decision maybe it's time we spoke more openly about things."

"Really?" Alan was thrown, clearly expecting Jeff to replay the past. He frowned, eyes darting as the idea played through his mind before a smile cracked into a grin. "Like a group decision?"

Alan was getting ahead of himself, clearly seeing the badge already on his chest as he sat taller and almost jigged in excitement.

"Alan, have you spoken to your brothers about this? You know they're not keen for you to join, right?" Clearly he was not aware as his eyes darted to Jeff's in confusion, the spark in his eyes caught in the headlights of Jeff's insinuation.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't they want me to join?" Perhaps that was the look Jeff had failed to see the first time round, the hurt which verged almost on a pain which swam across Alan's vision like a veil. Judgement clouding as he struggled to comprehend what was being said.

"That worry that you had for John when you thought he was injured, when you were awaiting news and praying for the best but silently thinking the worse?" Jeff closed his eyes blinking away painful memories when the outcome had once been so very different, "Every time you leave home it is what we all feel. All your life we've tried to keep you safe, by allowing you to join we would be going against everything we believe in. We can't always protect each other on the field Alan."

"But you do." He shook his head slowly, still trying to get his head around the idea that he still wasn't wanted as a Thunderbird. "You always come home…What makes me so different to Gordon? Or John, Scott or Virg? Or what about Tintin?! She was on Command and Control Dad! What about her?" His voice rose and so did he, standing as his arms struck out at the air.

"Tintin is not my youngest child Alan, she is not the soul survivor of an avalanche where she survived only because someone cared more about her life than their own." He turned away, a hand swatting his eyes as emotion welled up within. "Tintin is not the reason for the grey hairs on my head, the hours of lost sleep or continued worry when she's not there. Tintin has nothing to do with any of that."

Alan was still standing but froze as he saw the raw emotion of his father, a man usually so stoic and controlled breaking down before him. "I'm sorry I cause you such grief." He said voice no more than a whisper.

"No Alan, that's not it." He had to understand, surely? "You are something we all live for and we love you more than you could ever understand, but if we feel that kind of emotion when you are traveling or even when you're at home, what are we going to be like on the field with you besides us?"

He wasn't getting it, or perhaps he was but not to the extent he should have been. Alan sagged down onto the chair. "Am I that much of a liability?"

Perhaps that obsession with keeping him safe had created the selfishness Alan struggled to cope with, the anger which flared so bright but which could dissipate in the blinking of an eye, the feeling of loss which stemmed from both having everything and nothing all at the same time.

"It's not about being a liability Alan, it's about being loved."

"But you love Scott and…"

"I love each and every one of you, and if I went back perhaps I would do things differently. Some things I wouldn't do at all but it's too late to regret the past, I'm thinking of the future and if I can do one thing for you it is this. I'm not saying 'no' Alan, I'm saying that we sit down and we discuss it. You can hear your brother's thoughts and give your own, at the end of that time we can vote on the outcome. Ok?"

"Ok." The hope which sparked in his eyes before had gone now, replaced with confusion and disbelief. "Does this mean I have to come home?"

"We can do it here if you wish, but I'd love to see you back home son, I really would." He rubbed the sadness from his eyes and gazed at Alan, pleased when he tilted his head and nodded.

"Ok, I need some time to think and I need to see someone tomorrow but after that..." He leant back in the chair, legs crossed before him as he considered his options. "Am I ok to head out for an hour or so? I need to pick some stuff up and hopefully rearrange what I was doing tomorrow, as much as I'd love to catch up with everyone I need time to just get my head around things."

"Sure." Jeff smiled smugly, happy in the knowledge that Alan would return home, understanding that it was a lot to take on board. "We'll order in some food for when you get back."

"Right… well, I'll be back soon. I've got my phone if anyone needs anything."

* * *

Alan sat at a small bar close to Tracy Towers staring at the empty beer bottle before him, wondering how his brothers could side against him on something as important as being an International Rescue operative. He loved his family, lord knows he did, but sometimes he just couldn't handle it. He needed space to sort his thoughts and couldn't do that in an apartment full of people who apparently had been against him the entire time.

When he was younger he'd thought that by twenty one his life would have been sorted, the issues would disappear the moment they handed him his International Rescue badge. Now he was beginning to question whether he even wanted it anymore.

The whole plan had been a dream, cooked up in an idealistic mind with damned rainbows and apple pie. But that apple pie life didn't exist and it wasn't just his family to blame. No. When he looked back at those dreams and aspirations it hadn't been himself that he'd envisaged living it, it was someone altogether different. For one, the dream Alan was blissfully happy; he wouldn't storm off at the end of each argument or drift away to mull over beer bottles. There wouldn't have been arguments, that case in itself made the dream fade with whatever hope remained.

He'd have to go back and talk, and not just because all of his stuff was there, he had to make things right even if his heart didn't feel it. He had to try and understand as did they.

Maybe that was what being twenty one was about; Finding a way to ignore the doubts, the hurt and feelings of loss, to concentrate on life and love, to please those around him. Maybe that would make his father proud. It wasn't like News International was going to give him that full season, not when they thought of him as a liar. There was definitely something going on with that, he couldn't place what exactly but he felt as though he was being played. The question of 'who by?' remained a mystery.

With a sigh he pushed the empty bottle away, returning with alcohol on his breath would definitely not help matters. The short time he'd spent with alcohol had not been something to be proud of. Pushing himself up Alan turned to leave but found himself face to face with a red eyed man who looked to be in his early thirties. A mess of dark hair on his head and an accent as Irish as Saint Patrick 's Day.

"Sorry lad didn't see ye there."

They'd bumped into each other, the pint clutched in the man's hand half lost over Alan's shirt.

"Sorry about that." Alan forced a smile, for a moment considering just walking away but his grandma's rules of politeness presiding. "Here, let me buy you another." He turned back to the bar and signaled the barman over.

"Make that two."

Alan frowned but paid, wondering how far his politeness had to stretch, certain that he shouldn't have been paying for the man's so far missing friend's drink also. Turning to leave once more he nodded an apologetic goodbye.

"Will ye not join me?"

"Oh, sorry I just thought.." The young blonde flushed in embarrassment, stuck in an unsure moment of how to respond.

"I've just had a piss awful day," the guy continued, the Irish drawl hanging in the air. "Could really use some distraction, ye know? Just one more drink lad, there's no fire is there?"

Alan couldn't really refuse; he had just walked straight into the guy. Plus he now had half a pint quickly soaking into his shirt, either way he'd return stinking of alcohol in need of an explanation, might as well make it that bit more bearable.

"Alright, give me a minute to dry this off." He gestured to his shirt.

"That's dandy, I'll hold ye brew for ye. Just don't do a runner, aye?"

"No worries, I'll be back in two."

He headed to the toilets and did his best to squeeze the remaining liquid from his shirt and into the sink, finally giving up and holding it under the hand dryer for a minute. A guy came through giving him a funny look so he thought better of it and headed back to the bar; even if it did dry the amber liquid had already left its mark on his white shirt. There was no hiding that.

He joined the guy at a small table in the corner of the bar, waved over by a wide smile and the flash of crooked teeth.

"Thanks for the beer mate," he drawled as Alan sat, pushing the second pint over for him to take. "Got myself a drinking buddy to, can't ask for much more than that." He took a gulp of his drink before setting it down too harshly and losing more of the liquid on the table, it was no wonder he'd collided with Alan, he seemed to have already had a few. Holding out a hand he took Alan's and shook it vigorously. "Brendan O'Donnell."

"Alan." He reclaimed his hand and took a swig of drink, wondering how quickly he could leave without seeming rude. "Can't stay long, I've got food waiting." He gestured with his hand before taking another drink.

"No worries lad," Brendan sat back and looked Alan over with an unsteady eye, "I should be heading back for me own soon, don't want the missus getting herself worked up. Not when I've gone and lost me job."

"You're joking? I'm so sorry to hear that." It explained the guy's behavior, Alan didn't really have a job, not a proper one anyway, yet the potential loss of it weighed down and made the relief of a beer tangible. "What happened?"

"Oh, you know how it is, not enough money in the world anymore. You've got to have money to make money, and if ye don't? Well, look at old muggins here."

Alan felt guilty at that, he didn't mean to be the son of a billionaire but he couldn't wish things different. Not when life seemed so hard for so many, you had to take what you were given and make the most of it.

"Have you got something to fall back on?" He asked, taking his pint down to halfway before looking back up at Brendan who smiled back, eyes glistening with something Alan wanted to believe was the Irish luck he'd need to not be out of work too long.

"Sometimes things just fall into your lap lad."

"Opportunities come knocking, right?" The guy was looking over his shoulder at something so he glanced back unseeing of whatever it was, happy to have a reason to be leaving as he turned back to down the rest of her beer.

"Too right."

Alan stared back at him, rubbing his eyes tiredly, they seemed to be having problems focusing and he couldn't seem to be able to blink back the focus. He'd not had so much of a problem with jet lag before but presumed that the worry over John had messed with his sleeping pattern more than anything, as soon as he had some food in him he'd be fine.

"Well, it was nice meeting you. I've really got to head off." He stood up, grasping the edge of the table as his legs threatened to give in under his own weight. Two beers shouldn't have affected him like that, two beers and a lack of sleep certainly shouldn't. "I've really got to head off." He repeated and shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, when he reopened them Brendan was suddenly next to him, an arm snaking round his waist confidentially as he holstered most of Alan's weight. "What are you doing?"

"Just helping me mate out, cause we're mates now, right Alan?"

"Yeah… right." He frowned, he'd had two beers so why the hell did he feel like he'd had twelve? And why did the guy who had seemed to have had a fair few more suddenly seem to be the picture of good health?

Brendan read his questioning look and explained for him.

"I spiked ye drink lad, gotta borrow ye for a few hours."

"What?" He swayed forward but was held upright by the man, his muscles refusing to work to protect himself as he was moved toward the emergency exit and outside.

"Alan Tracy. Youngest son of Jeff Tracy, ex-astronaut, founder of Tracy Enterprises, and subsequently a billionaire?" Brendan O'Donnell grinned. "Too easy Alan, ye made it all too easy."


	22. Man With a Plan

**Huge apologies for the delay, this chapter has been really hard to write. I was considering going with the normal run of the mill kidnapped story line but you know, it's me, and when do I do normal? Plus this has been planned for ages so it's good to get to the point where it begins to pan out, I just hope you like where I'm going with it.**

**Your reviews so far have been great, so many lovely comments :)**  
***fingers crossed you like this chapter***

* * *

Brendan had targeted Alan Tracy for a number of reasons, the biggest two being the kid's sudden appearance in the public eye and the apparent on-going feud he had with his family. Both reasons meant that Alan was a long way from home and very naive and, hopefully, easily influenced.

He was young, impressionable, and definitely something of a loose cannon.

It had always been Brendan's plan; grab a Tracy so he could get his hands on a few millions… minimum, possibly the mother lode – Jeff Tracy's billions. Obviously a billion dollar ransom was never going to work, not that Jeff wouldn't pay such an amount for a son as Brendan had no doubt that he would, but the money was tied up in investments and Tracy Enterprises, to get that kind of money would require something very special.

Half supporting and half guiding Alan from the bar, they headed to Brendan's car which sat waiting down the alleyway, engine still warm from when he'd pulled in just a half an hour prior. Some serious luck had been on his side when the key to his billion dollars had literally walked straight into him. Alan's mind had been elsewhere, allowing Brendan's words to roll over him and that renowned Tracy politeness had stopped him from walking away.

Brendan leant the young blonde against the car as he opened the side door, careful not to let him slide to the ground a hand held him in place before helping him inside. He checked his pupils, lifting groggy eyelids to find them fully dilated and unresponsive. The kid must have been exhausted physically and emotionally for the drug to have kicked in so fast. His weak attempts of resistance had quickly faded, though still conscious he was no longer aware of what was really going on and had fallen quiet.

It wouldn't last long though, the mind was the first to return and when that happened Brendan needed to be beyond clever with his words.

Scooting round the car into the driver's seat he pulled out onto the main road, wary of the passing of time and playing through what had to happen next. He had to keep reminding himself that this had been the plan all along yet it had come into effect much quicker than anticipated, it had been lucky that he'd had the drug on him. Well, not so lucky for the young Tracy.

It didn't take long before they were pulling into a parking lot of some old apartments, headlights illuminating the area before he killed the engine and scooted around the car to grab Alan before slowly making their way to the basement apartment.

"Good lad." He cooed, half balancing Alan against the doorframe as he fumbled for the keys, taking back the young man's weight as they headed inside and over to the couch on which Brendan gently lay him down. He was blinking, dazed and disorientated, comprehension only half there as blue eyes stared up at Brendan.

What Brendan loved about the drug that he had used was its ability to warp the mind, in too high of a dose it could literally drive you insane, yet with just the right amount you could mould reality, with the right words and the right play on various situations a person could be guided into believing anything. It didn't give hallucinations as such, but it morphed the world into something completely different.

The drug itself was dubbed 'cataracts', or 'CAT' for short. For a period it had been rumoured that the Irish Republican Army had used CAT on individuals with information they were after, more than one politician had suddenly let slip details they had been sworn to protect and had quickly left their position in government due to health issues.

Libya - one of the IRA's early supplied of weapons and training - had also been rumoured to have connections with the drug, supplying and using upon not just enemies but even their own people.

It was difficult to produce, requiring toxins from a rare fungus found only in limestone caves such as Dunmore in Ireland. Known in literature as a place where one thousand lives were taken by the Vikings, themselves known for using poisoned tipped arrows upon their enemies to cause hallucinations and madness.

Brendan liked the stories that came from the caves of his childhood; the fear which kept people away from them had forever intrigued him. It seemed fitting that places so mystical and steeped in history should have a mind altering fungus growing inside of them. Perhaps the stories of monsters and murder were really that of men driven mad by the potent spores the fungus emitted.

Running a hand through Alan's hair he caught his eyes in his own, holding his gaze as he spoke.

"Ye gave me quite a scare Alan, went an' passed out. I think ye've been over doing it lad, burning the candle at both ends maybe?"

He smiled warmly, the kid reminded him a little of his younger brother, they both had that kindness, a streak of rebellion and the eyes of a pup. The big difference being that Brendan's brother had Brendan, he'd always be there for the kid no matter what, and he'd sniff trouble within a mile radius of the guy. Who did Alan have?

He'd been brought up by boarding schools, his family little more than friends who foolishly swore to protect him from the problems they were oblivious to. It was a real shame that Alan's poor circumstances had led to his obvious choice in the matter, he might not have been in the public eye much until now but that didn't stop his apparent upbringing from being known.

"I'll look after ye." And Brendan would, Alan was very important. "We're good friends, yeah? We help each other out and tell each other everything. We've got each other's backs. 'Aint that right?"

He waited for Alan to take in the words, his foggy mind processing them before he nodded slowly but without real conviction, brows furrowed but eyes stuck on Brendan's as though he were a lifeline. In his drug induced state his body cried out for someone to trust, to help him, the drug helped direct it but there was also fear playing in those eyes. The kid hung onto it with a fierce dedication.

"Don't worry kiddo, I'll let your dad know you're ok. I'll text him on ye phone, see?" Brendan moved slowly and with exaggerated movements, pulling Alan's phone from his back pocket and flipping through to his messages. "He won't be _mad_, will he? Your dad won't _shout _at ye now? He doesn't _shout, argue_with ye? Alan?"

Direct the fear. Channel it into another source. Play on memories. If there was a CAT handbook on manipulation Brendan would have penned it.

Alan flinched back into the couch, hands scrambling back as whatever memories he associated Brendan's words with found their target. He might not have feared Jeff, but the arguments they must have had held that emotion, maybe the worry, the dread and the confusion they brought with them. Alan thought he was afraid of the future, a future when he would have to explain to Jeff why he hadn't returned from the bar, a future where he still smelt like beer.

Catching one of Alan's hands in his own Brendan squeezed, worry on his face once more as he looked from the phone to the young Tracy.

"How about I say you're here, helping a mate who just lost his job? You would have been back soon but your good friend Brendan needed your support, my best mates support, _ye_? Because that's true, _right_? You're here helping me out, we both had a bit to drink and you got me back to my apartment downtown. _Right_? Alan? Figured you'd stay over, you'll call in the morning but right now your mate Brendan needs ye. That's _true_ Alan, no way your dad can be mad if it's the truth, _right_? And you'll see him tomorrow, you'll explain later."

Brendan wrote a quite message along the same lines and hit send before pressing the phone into Alan's hand.

"_You_ sent the message, it'll be _fine_. No _problems_ and no _worries_. Just you and your mate Brendan having some beers and discussing life. Ye?"

He ruffled the kid's hair and stood fully, watching for a second as Alan closed his eyes and seemed to sink further into the sofa. He'd feel like he had one hell of a hangover when he awoke the next day, but for now he groggily blinked, trying to focus on the room and make sense of what Brendan had told him.

He'd need another dose soon, before is mind sent out too many questions and his body had any power to act upon them. Brendan didn't want to use violence to keep Alan in place but if it came down to it he'd take whatever action was necessary to secure the prize fund the kid had to bring.

Heading to the kitchen area he switched the kettle on, grabbed a mug from one of the cupboards and spooned in some coffee before grabbing his stash of CAT from a plastic box on top of one of the cabinets. He had it in liquid and powder form; the best results were when it was injected directly into the body but to keep the effect going the powder was fine. It was short term but should see Alan through till the morning.

Whilst the kettle boiled Brendan filled a glass with water and mixed in some of the powdered drug, insuring it had fully dissolved before heading back into the small lounge.

Alan remained where he'd been left but his hands were weakly scrabbling at the couch cushions as he feebly attempted to pull himself up, eyes wavering on Brendan as he found his words.

"W…What's going on?" He managed to pull himself up to a loose sitting position, head lolling back as he desperately tried to regain his senses. "Where am I?" His eyes focused briefly before he'd blink and turn away as though what he looked at disturbed him.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa by Alan, Brendan reached out and grasped the top of one of his arms. "Ye're at my apartment Alan, ye remember? Came back for some drinks, had a few too many." He held the glass forward and nodded to it. "Have some water, it'll clear ye head."

Alan tried to push it away but missed completely, swatting the air weakly as he leant away. "No… no I remember. I just had two… at the bar." He frowned for a moment, a few seconds passed as he recounted what had happened. Retracing his steps and remembering with agonising accuracy.

His eyes darted to Brendan's. "You drugged me…"

He might have still been suffering from the effects of the drug but he put in a good effort of trying to run for it, his eyes darted from Brendan's to the apartment door and suddenly he was on his feet stumbling forward. Desperation and concentration clear as his legs struggled to understand what he wanted from them.

Brendan was surprised but easily brought Alan back down, an arm snaked around Alan's waist and swung him back to the couch with a soft thump, before Alan could process the movement he gently grabbed him by the neck and held the kid against him.

"Ye're going to drink this Alan, things will make more sense then. Ok?"

Alan opened his mouth to protest and weakly pried the arm holding him but it was no use, as soon as his mouth opened Brendan shoved the glass against his lips and forced him to drink. Much of the liquid was lost on his face and shirt but he ingested some with a choked surprise.

Brendan got him to drink as much as he could which was made easier as the drug was quick to take hold, Alan's muscles relaxed and his hands fell limply by his side. But the time the glass had emptied he'd fallen limp in Brendan's arms, eyes taking on the same glassy look they had before. It wouldn't be long before he lost consciousness completely.

"Ye're at my apartment Alan, with your friend Brendan. Had a few too many to drink so ye're sleeping it off before heading home tomorrow. Right? Ye drank too many at the bar and had problems getting home, so ye're here."

Alan didn't even nod, he was too far gone but seemed to hear the words. Brendan just hoped that the next time he awoke that they'd have more of an effect. He kept talking until Alan's eyes finally closed and his breathing slowed to that of sleep, throwing a blanket over the lad before heading off to find his coffee.

* * *

**Ahh so what d'ya think? A much drugged Alan, a man with a plan, and don't forget Alan's still got that meeting tomorrow and a father who trusted him to come home. Plus a whole family who haven't yet had the chance to say a real hello, don't forget Tintin, and the media who suddenly seem to know things he hasn't told anyone outside of the family... Yep, I hope you're still with me because my mind is turning to goo trying to get this all together.  
I shall attempt to get another chapter up tomorrow, I use the term loosely but probably won't be able to update till after New Year otherwise. **

**Review?**


	23. The Morning After

**Sorry sorry sorry! As I mentioned in an earlier chapter, my netbook (which I type on) broke so I have to work on my work computer. That was the plan but I run my own business and things have been incredibly busy. All in a good way for me but unfortunately not for you guys. Thanks for the shake up emails and comments, hopefully with how things are going I should be able to get a new laptop at some point so faster updates. I will push forward with this and try and get back to a semi regular update.**  
**I have the whole fic planned so it's not going to be one of those that just ends on a random chapter.**

**Anyway, please accept my many apologies. **  
**Much love and enjoy! **

* * *

Alan stumbled into the morning air and blinked dazed up at the dazzling sun, he had no idea where he was or how he should even attempt to get home. Pulling the hood on his jumper up her kept his head down as he stumbled along the sidewalk, he wasn't in any state to have sneaky reporters snapping his photo over the tabloids, and right then his pounding head couldn't bear to hear their questions.

It didn't seem like a bad area as such, there were small shops dotted along the streets and a slow stream of traffic passed by.

He really hoped that Brendan wouldn't mind him walking out like he had, leaving just a scrawled note on the coffee table saying that he hadn't wished to wake the guy. He hadn't been able to find his cell phone but would sort it out later as he had to get going. He had a meeting with News International and as he couldn't ring to rearrange it he really had to be there.

He stood for a moment before continuing down the street. He couldn't actually remember having his phone at all that night, he was absolutely sure that he'd taken it with him though. The phone felt almost as though it were part of him so he hoped to hell that is was under Brendan's couch or somewhere in his apartment.

He thought back to the haze which was the night before, blinking through flashes of memory as his feet thudded along the asphalt beneath his feet. He'd met Brendan at the bar and they'd had a couple of drinks, at some point they must have headed back to Brendan's apartment… yeah. Alan could recall sitting on the couch.

'_You've had a few too many'_.

Brendan had looked after him after he'd been drowning his stressful sorrows, sorrows which the new day had brought back up with the reminding tick of a clock. News International loomed like a dark cloud.

Getting to the end of the block Alan glanced up at the road signed and sighed; he wasn't too far out of town and could probably afford a cab though it was just that bit too far to walk. He wasn't altogether sure where he'd catch one so set off purposefully towards a dinner at the other side of the crossroads. He could probably use their phone and although he didn't think that he could stomach any food he felt the desperate need of a caffeine boost.

It was a strange sort of hangover, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. It left the world far too bright and loud, it was like the sounds had substance to them, vibrating through the air and leaving him staring and having to force his eyes to focus. Simple sounds replayed in his head over and over like a bad record with a catchy tune - it was tiring.

Heading inside the dinner Alan spotted a pay phone on the wall along from the bar, he headed over and spent a minute pondering whether to risk requesting a ride from one of his father's drivers or be cheeky and try one of his brothers.

He wasn't too concerned with his Dad not knowing where he was, when he thought about being worried words floated in his mind telling him that it was fine, everything had been sorted. He'd told his dad something… couldn't remember what but there was nothing to worry about. There was a twinge of fear there but it had nothing to do with the situation, it felt directed at Jeff himself for some reason.

He shook the feeling away. Maybe he had left his phone at Brendan's after all.

Squinting at the numbers on the phone he haphazardly dialled, hanging up twice when his uncooperative fingers messed it up only to succeed on the third attempt. It was a number he knew but his hands seemed to shake each time he tried to focus movement. Leaning his head against the wall he clasped the receiver to his ear and waited out the horrible ringing as it drilled into his fragile head, it wasn't until the call was picked up that he realised who he'd even dialled.

"Virgil?" Alan's voice felt and sounded as though he'd been drinking sand; rough and horse and not altogether himself. "I rang you last night."

He answered in response to his brother's loud reaction to hearing Alan on the other end, questioning his actions which he felt sure he'd already explained.

He groaned and shut his eyes. "Yeah. Dad. Whoever… Point is I left a message, right?" Perhaps he was questioning himself more than the voice on the other end, he wasn't entirely sure. Virgil was giving some kind of speech that he easily tuned out off all too quickly, the first few words of it echoing around his mind.

"_Irresponsible… Alan… Selfish_…"

Alan only snapped out when he heard his brother pretty much shouting him back to attention.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm sorry, ok? I really don't know what happened, just that I stayed at a friends and he made sure I was alright. I didn't drown in my own puke, ok? I'm alive and could really do with a ride."

It was cheeky to bring it up like that but he could feel the worry radiating from Virgil's voice and felt sure he'd come, hopefully with some kind of painkiller to erase how his whole body was feeling.

A minute later, after another long speech about what Alan presumed was responsibility, he hung up and went to the bar to await his brothers arrival. He managed a small smile as the middle aged waitress came across and filled him a mug of coffee.

"Late night?" She asked, before fully looking at him and paling slightly.

Alan was all ready to hear the spiel about who he was etc., 'Jeff Tracy's son blah blah blah', he had his signature eye roll at the ready but was taken aback by her next words.

"My God honey, you scared me to death!" She held her spare hand to her chest, voice lowering as she stepped closer and held a hand to his forehead. "Are you alright? Can I call someone for you?"

He frowned at her reaction. "I'll be fine, just one too many late nights." He tried to smile but it didn't quite stick, especially under the glare she was giving. "My brother's coming to pick me up." He added hopefully.

It seemed to calm her somewhat, her shoulders relaxed and she bit her lip, letting dead air stretch between them for a few uncomfortable seconds. "Ok, but if you need anything just shout ok? I'll just be over there, I can call a cab or doctor or whoever you need for you honey."

She finally moved off leaving him frowning after her, it had to be more than a bad hair day to cause that kind of reaction. He really wished he'd looked in the mirror before he'd left Brendan's apartment, perhaps his night of drinking had left its mark, like the time Gordon had visited him for the weekend at college and 'experimented' with permanent marker.

On Alan's face.

The day before a major exam.

He turned to the coffee before him and breathed in its awakening scent, the smell alone already awakening tired bones and clearing some of the fuzziness from his vision. He sipped it slowly as it cooled and had just finished the mug when the door chimed as Virgil came in.

Alan didn't have to turn to know that it was his brother, he could sense the pent up mood and felt the door open just that little bit too forcefully. Not quite on a Scott level but enough to know that the newcomer wasn't there for a slice of apple pie.

Alan closed his eyes and drank in the last few seconds of silence, hearing his brother stop beside him and awaiting the outburst which never came. The silence merely drifted on until Alan had to open his eyes and turn, wondering if in fact he'd been wrong and it wasn't Virgil after all.

He looked round to find Virgil staring at him in much the same manner as the waitress, eyes wide as he scrutinised Alan's appearance and whatever words he was going to say were lost on open lips. Alan stared back for a moment, suddenly even more worried that he'd messed up more than usual. This was worse than Scott and John finding his motel room in the middle of nowhere, heck, this was worse than facing John and Scott after leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey?" He raised an eyebrow hoping for a reaction, voice failing him as he croaked out his greeting. "You ok?"

That did the trick, whatever trance Virgil had been in was broken. "Am I ok? Jesus Alan! What the hell happened to you?"

He took a deep breath and went for it, hoping it would dispel whatever was going on with his brother. "Well I had a few too many and crashed at a friend's, I was going to call a cab but, well, I really need to get to News International and hoped you could help me out. And I know I screwed up, something happened yesterday and now I have to go and explain to someone how I'm not selling stories to different papers and… Virg? You with me?" He stopped mid explanation. Virgil had taken one of Alan's arm in his own and had begun pulling up his sleeve, finger resting on his pulse points.

"Shhh. Wait a second." Virgil counted with his watch, frown deepening as he realised the arm and looked back up at Alan. "Have you taken something?"

"What? No!" Alan shrank back, eyes darting between Virgil and the nosy waitress who'd stopped what she was doing to stare over at the pair. "I just drank a bit too much… I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I don't remember much past the second but I was with Brendan and…"

"Whose Brendan?"

"Brendan... You know Brendan, he's a friend."

"From where?"

Alan opened his mouth to reply but the words didn't follow, the fact was that he couldn't remember where he knew Brendan from. He was a _good friend_ though; they had each other's backs. They _told each other everything_. He'd _drank too many_ at the bar and had problems getting home. Brendan _looked after him_. His _good friend_ Brendan.

"Alan, where do you know him from?"

Alan closed his eyes as words assaulted his memory, replaying over and over in a sickening spin as Virgil's voice cut in again and again.

"Alan, open your eyes from me Sprout." He managed to but the world continued to spin outside the darkness of his own mind, he felt dizzy and nearly fell back, if it wasn't for Virgil's supporting arm he would have. "Hey, it's ok. I think someone's given you something, but we'll sort it out. Ok Al? We'll head home and sort this out, just stay with me, alright?"

Alan nodded. It was the last thing he remembered doing.


	24. The Aftermath

**This chapter deals with depression, drug use and all other kinds of Alan whump. Pretty normal really.**

* * *

Brendan was fuming having awoken to find the Tracy kid gone. Part of him knew that rationally it was his own fault for sleeping so long, but the part which presided over his logic screamed that Alan was at fault. Who skips out on a friend whose supposedly (if things were going to plan) helped you out after a really tough night?

He should have still had a substantial amount of drugs in his system, how he'd managed to not only get up but completely disappear from the area was beyond Brendan's understanding. Alan must have contacted a family member or friend and got a ride, there was no way he'd have managed to get into the city alone in the state he must have been in. He'd need his next dose within the next forty eight hours if the effects were going to last so Brendan had to find him soon or all of his work would have gone to waste.

Luckily he still had Alan's phone and the handy address book full of names and numbers, not to mention a list of messages on the answer phone and text, and a nice little calendar charting where the young blonde was supposed to be.

Forty eight hours to track down and reclaim his lost Tracy. Brendan liked those odds.

* * *

Alan had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while and was aware of the sickening swaying motion this brought each and every time, his mind seemed unsure as to what was up and what was down and his eyes still refused to focus whenever he managed to blink up at the dazzling lights around his collapsed body.

Words floated around him and felt almost tangible, hanging in the air and underlining statements and opinions he couldn't bear to hear. There'd been times in his life when he'd felt down, despondent, and to a point depressed, but being the get up and go kind of person he was he hadn't allowed the feelings to stick. They ran off his back like water off a duck.

But not today. Today that feeling was suffocating and dragging his body and soul into a pit of despair which he could see no way out of. He wasn't even sure he wanted to wake up just yet, the darkness kept away those voices and the situations he'd so easily gotten himself into yet now found somewhat impossible to escape.

Had the bungee jump in Africa only been a few days ago? It felt like months, pages of a distant calendar falling away like dry sand through his hands, Alan felt as though his life was disappearing from him in much the same way and yet he couldn't grab hold. Nothing was sustainable anymore, his years at college had passed too soon leaving the realization that the future he'd so desperately craved may not hold a role for him, and the future he'd tried to create had already been burnt.

Maybe running to New York hadn't been the best of ideas, with streets lined with those who knew his face and family, and the media who hunted him like a wild rabbit. What use was Alan's word against a thousand sharp tongues bending the truth into whatever sold the most articles?

Really, considering everything the guys had been kind to him, overly kind. They should have chased him down and told him what he should do, paved Alan's life out and stood behind like a mother teaching a small child to walk. One foot behind another, one small step at a time, hands clinging to hands leading him away from anything that could harm.

But that look in his families' eyes when they'd found him spoke of such disappointment and betrayal, they didn't trust him and although Alan knew how much they loved him there was no hope left anymore. They'd expected him to fail and that's why they'd chased him down, from the moment he'd mentioned what he was doing there'd been concern and doubt. Against all of that he hadn't stood a chance. There was no fork in the road for Alan Tracy, but a dead end.

As the world slowly stopped turning quite so sickeningly he became aware of something soft below him and a cushion or pillow supporting his head. Voices around were those of family talking in hushed whispers, their tones laced with the same familiar concern and doubt he'd become harshly accustomed to.

Cracking an eyelid open he peered around and found himself on the couch back at their apartment at the top of Tracy Towers. His body let out an involuntary grown as he tried to sit, the motion resulting in another dizzying spell and the incoming rush of feet.

"Alan! Hey, whoa! Don't try to sit up Sprout, you need your rest."

Virgil was fussing over him all wide eyed and jittery, hands on Alan's shoulders as he easily guided his younger brother back to the pillows below. Not that Alan gave much resistance, he just wanted to understand why he was suddenly on the couch feeling like he'd been hit by a freight train on speed… serious skip the station/skip the state speed.

He stared up blankly, latching onto words in his memory which linked to whatever had resulted in him lying amidst a wave of concerned onlookers. A vague memory of Virgil played the backing track to his pounding heart yet images were lost, and the story behind it all? Resting with Davy Jone's locker under a sea of confusing, niggling doubt.

"_What the hell happened to you?_  
_"Have you taken something?"  
"Alan…"  
"Al?"  
"Just stay with me…"  
_  
"What happened?" He croaked, eyes only finding Virgil's - He wasn't sure he could stomach the disappointed in the others just yet.

"Don't you remember?" Scott came round from behind the couch where he'd been perched, hands on knees as he knelt to run a hand over Alan's brow. "He's pretty hot still Virg, shouldn't we get him checked over at a hospital or something?"

"I can do a drug's test from here, I have the equipment and it'll be quicker and easier than sitting in a waiting room for hours." Virgil placed his own hand on Alan's brow and frowned.

"What do you mean drugs test?" He couldn't help but close his eyes against the wonderfully coolness of Virgil's hand but managed a weak glare when the hand was removed. He could have been holidaying in a frying pan right then, his skin pulsated against the burning ache of a high fever.

"We think you may have taken something." Scott narrowed his eyes as his inspected his youngest sibling. "We're not really sure what just yet but you've been in and out of consciousness for a few hours now."

"I haven't taken anything!" Alan jolted upright and immediately wished he hadn't but ignored the restraining hand of his father who appeared behind. He found himself jolting away and almost falling of the couch if Scott hadn't been there to block him and take the dead weight.

Alan stared up at his Dad with something akin to fear running wildly through his veins, his head shaking furiously as he stared into the man's eyes. "I haven't taken anything Dad, I swear!" He backed away again, practically sitting in Scott's lap as he distanced himself from the man that for some reason was provoking such an intense fear in him. It wasn't a normal feeling, it wasn't intentional either but right then his heart was hammering in his chest like a damn brass band, amidst the heat the hairs on his arms stood on end as a chill swept his body.

"What happened?" Alan pleaded, eyes darting behind Jeff to John and Gordon who stood hesitantly behind, Tintin hovering between the two. Maybe the fear had something to do with the memory loss; perhaps something had happened between Alan and his father to land him where he was. He recalled arriving at the apartment with Gordon but after that memories blurred, the past and present suddenly weren't so clear.

"_He won't be mad, will he? Your dad won't shout at ye now? He doesn't shout, argue with ye?"_

"Brendan!"He skirted off the couch and away from Scott, staggering to his uncertain feet and clinging to the closest chair, eyes darting around in an attempt of finding his _old_ friend. "Where's Brendan?"

Things were moving too quickly, not just the hands which reached out to grab him but the world itself suddenly tilted and swayed once more, reality faded back into the nightmare of the lack of control and his legs buckled beneath him.

"Where's Brendan?" He found himself breathing out in a whoosh of breath, one of his brother's arms wrapped around him from behind as another shone something far too bright into his eyes and again felt his forehead. He tried to tell them that he needed his friend but the words were swayed as his mind took a running leap into that blissful oblivion, it raced towards him like the valley below Bloukran's Bridge yet this time he felt sure there'd be no bungee to pull him back.

"His fever is rising again, we need to get him settled and cool him down." Virgil was somewhere in front, no doubt wielding the blinding torch.

"Where's Bren?" Alan asked again in a mumble, trying to push away at the hands around him, feet scrabbling at the floor. "We were… he was… not here." He stumbled as someone caught one of his feet and then the other one as he was lifted into the air, eyelids dragging heavily as the darkness grabbed hold and pulled.

"It's alright Al," Gordon didn't sound right, his voice was darker and the grip on Alan's ankles too tight, he kicked out again but couldn't get the power behind it and still didn't understand why he even wanted to lash out like that. "Chillax kiddo, you're pretty sick."

"They're trying to help Allie, make you better."

"Tintin?" He swung his head to the sound of the voice as he was moved into one of the bedrooms, "Tintin, get Brendan! He knows…"

Knows what? He couldn't even answer the question himself, he just knew he had to find his friend and things would be alright. He'd make whatever this was go away. Because they were _friends_, they _trusted_ each other; they _looked out for one another_. Brendan would make things _right._

The world faded into darkness once more and his body gave up the fight._  
_

* * *

John looked on sadly as his brother slumped in Virgil's arms in defeat, his sudden fight losing momentum as his chest heaved with whatever emotion and drug ran through his young brother's veins. It had looked a lot like fear, fear for their father and fear for not having whoever Brendan was close by. It looked like fear but how could it be? What did Alan have to be afraid of?

Whatever Alan had taken John was downright sure that it wasn't intentional, who in their right mind would take something to make them react in such an extreme way. There was no high just one big low which had sapped away the spirit from the youngest Tracy's eyes and left him a bawling mess.

"How long will the drug's test take?" He looked to Virgil who with Tintin and Gordon's help were making Alan comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be considering he was running a fever and had just suffered a major panic attack.

"An hour or so, though I don't think it's any usual substance as his behaviour ticks around a dozen boxes across the whole spectrum."

"Can you hazard a guess?" Jeff asked, he stood in the doorway frowning in at his youngest, eyes damp with concern.

"The symptoms span across so many possibilities that I couldn't even begin to guess, I'm worried that it's a mix or blend by some backdoor dealer. It could have anything in it from cocaine to toilet cleaner, though even then we should be able to read the base from his response."

"Toilet cleaner?" Gordon huffed a dry laugh, now perched on the edge of the bed, arms folded across him. "That's a drug?"

"A lot of dealers mix the pure drug with other substances to make it go further, of course they won't tell the buyer. Most dealers use sugar but some will do anything to get more money for their stash."

"I've heard of it in cheap alcohol but not with drugs, that's crazy… What if Alan's ingested something like that, what'll happen to him?"

"Well…" Virgil rubbed his eyes tiredly, since the call for the rescue things had gone from bad to worse. "It would potentially cause internal problems, possibly an internal bleed or organ damage, but he'd have to have taken a lot and if that were the case we'd be seeing more physical damage by now."

"Look how whacked out he's been acting, I'd say he's taken plenty." Gordon was getting irate, his voice rising as he eyed his only younger sibling's chest rise and fall none too steadily. "He looks like death!"

Jeff came into the room and laid a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Take it down a notch, we won't know for sure until we get the results. Right Virgil? No point jumping to conclusions before we know."

"It's a waiting game I'm afraid, and as I said I don't even want to hazard a guess because his reactions are way off any kind of chart. If I guessed wrong and started treatment it could exacerbate existing reactions."

"Why was he so scared of you Mr Tracy?" Tintin had been very quiet, her concern for Alan showing itself in the soothing circles she rubbed on his pale hands.

"I really have no idea, we'd spoken about him taking Tracy One without permission and everything that's happened… hell I even told him we'd put his Thunderbird status to a vote. He seemed pretty upbeat when he left yesterday, he said he needed to think things through and he wouldn't be long... If he was going to walk out and not come back I'd have expected a blazing row before hand."

"Maybe we should be asking what happened after he left the apartment." Scott raised a point they'd all been mulling over, "he said he needed time to think right, and he sounded positive about things? So how the hell did he go from upbeat to drug induced? That's what we need to know."

"And who the hell this Brendan guy?" Growled Gordon, eyes blazing as he looked from Alan to his family.

"Whoever he is he should be booking a ticket out of the country, once I lay my hands on…"

"Country? Heck Scott, he should be diving into the next black hole three galaxies away." Gordon smirked evilly, frowning as he thought back over the events. "Virg, I think a couple of us need to head back to the diner and see what we can dig up. Alan can't have made it very far on his own."

"Maybe the guy lives close by?" John finished with a nod, "We definitely need to check that out."

"Shall I get in touch with Brains and Fermat?" Tintin raised her phone, "there's only going to be a certain number of Brendan's in the area right? If anyone can hack housing and rental files it's those two, there might even be some CCTV locally."

Jeff nodded and smiled. "Good idea Tintin, that's something positive to go on, the CCTV might shed light on what Alan did after he left the apartment last night. We've got some time before the drug's test comes back so let's make use of that time and find out who the hell this guy is. Ok?"

"FAB Dad."

"FAB."

* * *

**Wrath of the Tracys or revenge of the Irish man? Either way more Alan whump to come!**


	25. The Plan

**Thanks for the reviews, I thought I'd power through another update. I didn't realize it was St. Patrick's yesterday, do the Americans celebrate it more than the Irish? From what ****_How I Met Your Mother_**** has taught me, yes, definitely. I'd blame our weather but we still have cheese rolling competitions and bog swimming, drowning on Guinness seems pretty light in comparison. **

* * *

Tintin got on the phone to Brains whilst Scott and Jeff headed into the living area to see if they could get any CCTV feeds on the computer, which left Virgil, Gordon and John sat around Alan's bedside. Gordon looking somewhat worse for wear as he stared down at his despondent brother, white as a sheet yet sweating like he was in the tropics.

Virgil set about checking Alan's pulse, temperature, and reaction to light, he'd been doing so every five minutes for the last few hours to monitor whether the reaction Alan was having was getting better or worse. So far it had fluctuated wildly from moments of clear lucidity to panicked episodes of fear and wild palpitations of the heart, his fever rose near the level of having to get him admitted to hospital but just shy of the point they'd agreed to take him in it would drop suddenly and leave the young blonde in a cold sweat panting for breath.

Thankfully Alan had been unconscious most of that time, his only clear awakening a recent reminder in their minds of how bad things were. Before then he'd occasionally moaned out in his sleep, tossing and turning and swatting hands away from his face with a lack of co-ordination and commitment. The drug turning the darkness behind his eyelids into a nightmare he had no control over, Virgil knew without a shadow of a doubt that the drug intake had not been intentional. Alan did not need to convince them of that.

When Virgil had walked into the dinner and found Alan sat at the bar clutching a strong black coffee he'd had the full intention of tearing him a new one, yet one look at his pale complexion and wild pupil blown eyes had sent away all of those thoughts. How Alan had even got to the dinner was beyond him, the kid looked like death and it was terrifying.

"Gordon, are you alright to stay with him if John and I head back to the dinner to see if we can dig anything up? If Alan wakes up whilst we're gone he may be able to give us a clue about this Brendan character or even where he was before he called me this morning."

"I don't really want to leave him Virg," John frowned, he'd taken Tintin's place at the other side of the bed holding Alan's hand and rubbing reassuring circles into his skin, "what if he gets worse? He needs you here at the very least."

"I still think we should get him down to the hospital," Gordon sighed, "I know they can't do any more than you're doing right now bro, don't get me wrong," he held his hands up when Virgil opened his mouth to speak, "it would just feel a damn sight better if he was surrounded by doctors and medical staff rather than just the one. And if you head off what the heck am I going to do if things get worse?"

"I understand your concern Gords, really I do, but I've been monitoring the reaction, sometimes it flares with his fever but it's not gone near a level I can't cope with. All I've been doing is checking his pulse, temperature and pupils, if you continue with that he'll be fine. He needs someone with him but he's not in immediate danger, and if things do take a turn for the worse you'll spot it and be able to get him to the hospital just as quickly as I could." Virgil rubbed his eyelids tiredly. "I have to head back to the dinner as I know where it is, where Alan was and what he was doing, it's logical. And I could really do with one of you guys with me if we're going to retrace where he's been."

"Why not take Tintin?" John asked, not budging from his spot besides Alan. "She'll hopefully have something from Brains and Fermat to go on; surely you'd be better taking her."

Virgil sighed again, his shoulders sagging yet not ready to accept defeat. "John, please, Tintin isn't a Thunderbird, she's great with the technical side of things but when it comes to work on the ground I'd rather have you by my side. Plus, we nearly lost you in Italy and it feels like we've nearly lost Alan physically and emotionally here where he should be safe, I need a brother besides me right now. Ok?"

They shared a look which spoke more than their disagreement but it was John who bowed his head and admitted defeat, he kissed his youngest brother's hand and stood, eyes finding Gordon's. "You look after him ok? Anything changes and you let us know straight away."

"What am I supposed to do? I don't know anything medical, what if something does go wrong?"

Virgil laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "Just do what I've been doing, Scott and Dad are in the other room so if anything happens they'll be there to help and support. If Alan wakes up try to find out where he was and what happened, you two have always been super close so he might be more willing to talk to you. It's been some hours since Alan took whatever's causing this so hopefully things will start improving." He smiled and gestured for John to follow him, they needed to make use of the time they had. "Just be there for him Gordon, just be yourself."

They headed out leaving Gordon to climb onto the bed besides his younger brother and pull him close, the blonde's head resting below his chin and arms wrapped protectively around his body. Nothing was going to happen to his baby brother whilst he was there, no matter what his age he'd always look after the kid.

John and Virgil took one of the company cars and headed out of the city and back to the dinner, their trip mostly silent as they both mulled over thoughts of what the heck was going on. It had been a busy few weeks, hell it had been a busy few months. Hopefully this was the catalyst which would set everything straight, once Alan was back to full health they'd be forced to talk through their differences and finally… hopefully, they'd be a family again.

"Alan's always felt pretty left out." John mused Virgil's own thoughts as they passed apartment buildings and run down shops. "I know we want to protect him but by blocking him from becoming a Thunderbird we've just driven him further away."

"Hmm." The car cruised through a set of lights before stopping at the crossroads which led to the dinner. "He's seemed pretty distant for some years, I just didn't realise until recently. You know he was always home when we were all at college, during holidays he'd be there waiting, it would be something I looked forward to – returning home and seeing how much he'd grown and the kind of person he was turning into. You know? We might call the island home but when Alan's not there it doesn't feel right, he's like the little bit of home that holds all the pieces together."

"When the kid went to college I thought Scott was going to have a breakdown, remember when we caught him crying and he claimed he'd suddenly developed hay fever?"

Virgil laughed lightly, a genuine smile marring the shadows on his face. "I'd forgotten about that. He had a countdown of Alan's first Spring break in his room and then when Alan decided not to come home he went all military on us during rescues, nearly drove Dad mad by making all of his decisions for him and ordering us around."

"Field commander? More like terminator."

They laughed, the sound lightening the mood as the car peeled off into the dinner's car park.

"Gordon was a good choice to leave behind." John commented as they left the vehicle, the lights flashing as Virgil locked it and guided John to the building before them. "He and Al are still really close."

"Well he's the only one of us who put the effort in to see the Sprout graduate; I don't even know how we got to the point of missing something so important."

"We'll make it up to him."

"How do you make up missing someone graduate?"

"How do you make up for missing twenty one years of importance in the kids life? I have no idea, but we will, ok?"

"We'll see."

Virgil's eyes darkened as they entered the dinner, eyes scanning for Brendan although he had no idea who he was or what he looked like. Call it Tracy instinct but he was sure he'd know the guy when he saw him.

* * *

Brendan was fed up of hearing Alan's phone ring, it hadn't stopped all morning and now lunch had been and gone and still it rang. The screen reading 'News International', the paper the kid had been dumb enough to sell his story to, not that Brendan cared. He'd apparently had a meeting at their offices that morning, the calendar on the kid's phone told him as much yet the hours he'd spent sat outside to see if he'd turn up proved futile. Alan was a no show.

Brendan had listened through the answer phone messages and knew that the entire Tracy clan was in New York staying at their penthouse at the top of Tracy Towers, if Alan had got anyone to pick him up then that's where he'd be, craving the drug which was slowly leaving his system. Not that he knew it was the drug; he'd associate it with Brendan and feel the need to find him.

At least that's what the Irish man hoped; he'd been sat across the road from the Towers for the last hour and had watched as two of the brothers had left in a dark car. There was still no sign of his lost sheep but he was quietly confident. It was a lot easier for someone to sneak out of Tracy Towers than for someone to sneak in, and that was what he was betting on.

* * *

**Drugs are not cool. Mm'kay?**


End file.
